


Quid Pro Quo

by RedOrchid



Series: Quid Pro Quo + extras [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec is still gay, Alternate Canon, Epilogue added, Episode Remix, Episode: s01e11 Blood Calls to Blood, Episode: s01e12 Malec, Episode: s01e13 Morning Star, Family, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Happy Ending, Lydia Branwell is awesome and nobody's romantic subplot, M/M, Magnus makes bad jokes about turkey basters, Parabatai Bond, Remix, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, What-If, also Alec is gay and extremely attracted to Magnus, baby through insemination, bonus Lydia/Izzy, just to be clear, non-traditional family, the Alec & Lydia is platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid/pseuds/RedOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A <i>What if…?</i> taking off from the “I’ll do you pro bono” scene in 1x11. Alec accepts Magnus’ initial offer; things grow complicated from there.</p><p>(Aka the PWP that grew a plot and transformed into a full-on canon remix au. XD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> New shiny fandom! Whoot! Very excited to be here.  
> Big thank you to my wonderful betas: letswastetimehere and fannyT <3

You’d think that after living as long as he has, as well as being around people like Camille—who made yanking his emotions around into an artform—Magnus would be able to take what really amounts to nothing more than a simple rejection, from someone he hasn’t even kissed, in a stride.

There’s something about Alec Lightwood that cuts right through him, however—something which inspires awful puns about arrows through the heart, and far too much pining—and Magnus can put on a fabulous smile and fake aloofness with the best of them, but having Alec in his apartment tonight, asking him to help defend Isabelle… it grates.

Magnus would like to think that he’s a not a petty person with the big, important things (squabbles with friends are another thing altogether, especially if other warlocks are involved—thank you _very_ much, Catarina), but having Alec right in front of him makes their previous conversation play on a loop in Magnus’ head—the words _it’s a solid partnership_ repeating over and over—and it makes Magnus want to lash out, makes him itch to shout and make a scene and grab Alec and _shake_ him for doing this to himself.

He settles on a more subtle approach, taking great pleasure in outlining the prejudice and short-sightedness of Alec’s oh-so-beloved Clave. He’ll defend Isabelle—of course he will; he _likes_ Isabelle—but there’s a part of him that also wants to punish Alec in the process. For not finding a way of stopping the trial and following along with protocol so blindly, if nothing else.

“So, since as you say, _The Law. Is. The Law_ , there’s nothing stopping me from stepping through this gaping loophole,” he tells Alec, pausing for effect and, when Alec’s attention is completely focused on him, adding, “For the right price.”

“Name it.” Alec doesn’t even hesitate. Seems Magnus isn’t the only one who gets way too vulnerable when it comes to people close to his heart.

He takes a sip of his drink and goes in for the kill. “You.”

The look on Alec’s face is priceless, but there’s also a flash of fear in his eyes, as though he’s actually considering the possibility that Magnus means it—that he’d actually— 

It breaks Magnus’ heart a little further, and with heartbreak comes the inevitable bad pickup lines and desperate attempts to make light of the situation. 

“In fact, I’ll do you pro bono.”

It’s a terrible line, but it makes the corner of Alec’s lips turn into a small smile. The air between them feels both lighter and more charged all of a sudden, and Magnus waits for Alec to ask him his real price while taking another sip of his drink.

His mind is spinning ahead of him, and he’s so preoccupied trying to decide on whether to make Alec give up his bow or his stele that he almost misses what Alec says next.

“Okay.”

Magnus does a double take, then shakes his head a little for good measure. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I said okay,” Alec says. “I’ll do it. Get Izzy off the hook with the Clave and you can have me. For one night.”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice, and Magnus’ heart fractions a little bit further. He knows that Alec wants him, _knows_ that he isn’t alone in his feelings, but he’s also come to know just how deeply Alec’s sense of duty runs, and what it must cost him to make this choice, knowing—or at least suspecting—that it will make it that much harder for him to marry Lydia afterwards. 

Alec is still looking at him, want, fear, shame and determination all visible in his eyes. This isn’t about Isabelle anymore; Alec is striking a bargain with himself: the rest of his life doing what he thinks is right, for one, measly night of doing what he wants. Magnus would be flattered if it wasn’t all so very heartbreaking. 

“Alexander, I—”

“No,” Alec cuts him off, as though he can sense that Magnus is about to shoot him down. “You named your price, I’m choosing to accept it.” He takes a step forward and crosses his arms. “Unless you were bluffing?”

Magnus was, and they both know it. He’ll be damned if he’ll admit it, though. He narrows his eyes. “I somehow doubt that your darling _fiancee_ would approve of that plan.”

“As you pointed out,” Alec replies, “Lydia’s and my relationship isn’t exactly _hot_. Until we’re legally bound by the marriage runes, neither of us is under any obligation to be faithful to the other.”

“Thats—an interesting take on engagement.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Alec says, the heat in his voice directly contradicting his words. “You and me, we understand marriage very differently. I’m a Shadowhunter. This is about family and tradition, honour—” 

“Honour?” Magnus cuts in, feeling his own frustration rise again. “Where’s the honour in living a lie?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What about… love? Even Shadowhunters fall in love, Alec. Just tell me you’re in love with Lydia, and I’ll stop.”

For a moment, he thinks Alec will break, that he’ll finally acknowledge—if only to himself—just how enormous a sacrifice he’s set out on making. His eyes flicker up and down Magnus’ face, and Magnus’ breath catches in his chest; he can practically feel how close Alec is to letting himself reach out and pull him in, can already sense how _good_ it will feel when their lips crash together...

Alec closes his eyes and ducks his head. When he looks back up, the walls around his heart are firmly back into place. “I don’t know,” he says, clearly frustrated as well. “Why do you keep pushing? Is this—you’re confusing me!”

“Confusion is part of it,” Magnus counters. “That’s how you know something’s there.” 

“Well, you’ve made it very clear what you think of my choices,” Alec replies, uncrossing his arms and shifting on his feet as though he’s preparing for a fight. “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? You flirt, you laugh, you use magic. But at the end of the day, what do you risk? Even if I did feel something for you—you want me to give up my life for you? I have to do what’s right for _me_. I could lose my family, my career, _everything_!”

“Then _why_ are you here?”

“I came here for Izzy!” Alec almost shouts. “For my _sister_ , who means the world to me. She needs you to get her freedom back, and I’ll do anything to make that happen, including playing this little sick game of yours. You named your price, I accepted it. It’s done.”

Magnus feels his own anger like liquid fire inside of him, paired with a sick twist in his stomach. If Alec really thinks he cares so little—if he truly thinks this is all a game to him… Well. Alec’s not the only one who can raise the stakes.

“Very well, then,” he says, and with a snap of his fingers, the drink in his hand has been replaced with a delicate flute of champagne, a matching one appearing in Alec’s hand. “Let’s have a toast to confirm this new deal, shall we?”

Alec’s eyes are positively murderous, but he doesn’t flinch as he tilts his glass to Magnus’. “To Isabelle.”

Magnus forces a smile and repeats his words. Alecs throws his drink back in one go, gives the empty glass to Magnus and leaves the apartment without another word.

* * *

“I’m sorry we lost the case.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle says quietly, then turns and attempts to smile at him. “But at least we lost it with style.”

“There are still alternatives, you know,” Magnus says. “The Clave can strip you of your runes and banish you from their ranks, but your blood will still be yours, and with that you’ll always have power… if you choose to seek it.”

Isabelle’s eyes widen. “ _How?_ ”

“Let’s just say there is more to magic than is taught to young, innocent Shadowhunters,” Magnus replies. “Which is why I don’t think they’ll actually go through with banishing you: you’re too well connected among the seelies. Not to mention too well liked by them. The Queen could make you into quite a formidable weapon, and the Clave might be stuffy and prejudiced, but they’re not completely stupid.”

“So they—what? Just want to use me as an example to keep humiliating and weaken my family?”

“Very likely. Makes you wonder who put the idea in Lydia’s head to have you arrested, doesn’t it?”

Isabelle lets out a few more colourful curses, then starts pacing back and forth in the small room. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Oh, but that would be such a tragedy for your dear brother,” Magnus quips before he can stop himself.

Isabelle winces. “Look, I’m really sorry he’s being such an ass. I’ve been trying to talk him out of it, but he’s so convinced he’s doing the right thing.”

“Honourable people are infuriating like that.”

“I want to punch him in the face some days,” Isabelle admits. “He thinks he’s saving Max. And me and Jace. And mom and dad, I guess, though I hope they’re a bit lower on his list of priorities. And I’ve told him a _million times_ that we don’t need saving, but he just refuses to listen.”

Magnus nods. “Honourable _and_ stubborn. A wonderful combination.”

“I think you’re the only one who could change his mind,” Isabelle says. “I know he has a funny way of showing it, but he does care. I know he does. So please don’t give up on him. _Make him_ listen to you if you have to.”

This conversation is definitely getting a bit too close for comfort. Magnus takes a step back, rolls his eyes dramatically and then fixes Isabelle with his best mock-scandalised look. “Isabelle Lightwood, are you suggesting I kidnap your brother?”

Isabelle falters, and for a moment, Magnus thinks she’s going to push it. Then Isabelle pastes a wide smile on her own face as well. “Would you? Please?”

“Oh, I could never break the Accords like that,” Magnus replies. “The Law is the law after all.”

“It’s too bad my brother scooped you up first,” Isabelle teases. “We could have been quite the team.”

“I’m flattered, but you would have been done with me within a month,” Magnus replies with a chuckle. “Despite all of this,” he moves a hand over his head in a small arch, letting sparks appear as he does, “and the occasional drama of my profession, I’m really quite dreadfully domestic. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good fight or a good party same as anyone, but you’ll find me tucked into a chair with a book more often than not. It’s really a miracle that I haven’t started collecting cats yet.”

“So in other words, you’re _perfect_ for Alec,” Isabelle sighs. “What? It’s true.”

Magnus is still figuring out a good comeback to that, when the door opens and Alec steps through with a big happy smile on his face.

“Jace and Clary are back. They gave the Cup to Lydia. You’re free to go!”

Isabelle practically throws herself at him. “You were right, they came back! You knew!”

“I didn’t actually,” Alec replies, and the hug he gives his sister is one of both happiness and relief.

Magnus watches them embrace, the love they have for each other painfully evident, and thinks that, on some level, he can understand why Alec would choose to do whatever he can to keep his family safe. As abhorrent as living a lie is to Magnus, the truth is that he’s always been on his own, and when you only have yourself, well, self-acceptance and honesty are rather crucial for survival. Alec has a family, a position, a purpose that all give meaning to his life outside of what he might want for himself and a partner. As impossible as the sacrifice seems, the pure joy and adoration he sees in Alec’s eyes when he looks at Isabelle unravels something in his heart. He picks up his jacket and turns to leave, wanting to give the two of them a bit of privacy.

Alec stops him with a hand on his arm. “I’ll walk you out. We have some.. business to settle.”

Magnus meets his eye, and sees that, just like for himself, the anger and frustration have burned themselves out of Alec, and in their place, there’s a cautious excitement, and naked want shining through from underneath. There’s apprehension as well, however, and lingering traces of shame; Magnus takes it all in, turns it over in his mind, and makes a decision. 

“I’ll send my bill to the institute,” he says. “Standard fee. You can throw in a dusty artifact or two if you feel like tipping. Isabelle, you were amazing in there, now go celebrate with the seelies and come back covered in fairy dust to stick it to these people properly.”

He gives Isabelle a quick kiss on the cheek and escapes out the door. Alec catches up with him before he’s even half-way down the corridor.

“Magnus, wait!”

Magnus turns, doing his best not to let the hope that—despite his best efforts—sparks in his chest shine through too obviously. “Yes?”

“Um, I—” Alec starts. “I’m not sure how to do this. Do you… can we go somewhere more private? To talk?”

“Just talk?” Magnus probes. “Is that all you have in mind, Alexander?”

Alec blushes and looks away. He’s utterly bewitching, and Magnus takes quick stock of the way Alec’s breath is coming faster than usual, how he seems to be gravitating closer to Magnus without even knowing it, and realises that, if he wanted to, seducing Alec now would probably be quite easy.

And, oh, does he ever want to. The problem is that he wants infinitely more than that.

They definitely do need to talk.

“I just want you to know. Lydia was wonderful in court,” he says. “She’s great.”

Alec practically lights up in front of him “So you get it?”

Now, Magnus _could_ agree with him, talk up Lydia some more, and then lead the conversation towards the multitude of arrangements that could peacefully coexist in a purely political marriage. He could have a place with Alec, maybe long-term—possibly with Lydia’s blessing, even. But Magnus knows for a fact that he’s a person who doesn’t share well, and he _hates_ being a dirty little secret. So. 

“No, Alec. I get _her_ ,” he says. “I like her. But you don’t have to _marry_ her.”

Alec’s eyes harden. “Yes, I _do_ , Magnus,” he replies, and Magnus can practically hear a whole life of duty and repression in those words.

Alec Lightwood is going to break his fucking heart. Both of their hearts, really. And he doesn’t even seem to get it. 

“You’ll be lonely all your life, and so will she,” Magnus insists, trying to will Alec to understand, to take a step out of his little bubble of family honour and just _look_ at the cage he’s building for himself. “Neither of you deserve it.”

He pauses, steels himself and then goes for broke. “And I don’t either.”

Alec doesn’t reply. Magnus can clearly see the conflict in his eyes, and the pain. But there’s also a calmness there, and a fierce determination. And none of the realisation Magnus was hoping for.

Alec is the first to look away, and that, Magnus supposes, is an answer in itself: Alec has made his choice, and it’s not him.

When he leaves the second time, Alec doesn’t stop him.

* * *

As soon as he’s able, he throws up a portal back to his apartment and steps through, collapsing into the nearest chair and putting his face in his hands. 

Well, fuck. He just never learns, does he? On the bright side, at least he knows just how well time heals all wounds. And time is something he’s got in abundance.

Still. Fuck. 

He contemplates getting one of his older bottles out and setting out on the path to sweet oblivion, but ultimately decides against it. His suit—while fabulous—smells of the courtroom, like oppression and prejudice against his kind (so he’s being a tad dramatic; he’s just both lost a case and quite probably the man he was falling for, sue him), and Magnus feels an itching need to scrub down in the shower and put on something more… himself.

Hot water and a mix of soothing aromatic oils do wonders. He’s just wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist and started drying his hair when there’s a tingle of bells announcing that someone’s at his door.

Magnus sighs and flips on the intercom by magic, transporting the sound into his bathroom so he can keep on working on his hair. “I’m closed for business, sorry. Unless you’re dying, please come back another day.”

“Magnus, it’s me,” comes Alec’s voice. “Can I come up? We need to talk.”

Magnus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure we have anything else to talk about.”

“Please,” Alec replies, and that one word cuts right through Magnus’ defenses. “Five minutes, and then if you still want me to leave, I’ll go. I promise.”

Magnus lifts his hand and sends a small surge of magic towards the door. The intercom buzzes and he hears the front door unlatch. 

When Alec steps into the apartment, Magnus is waiting for him in his favourite chair, drink in hand and dressed to the nines, much like during their previous meeting. His shirt is pure silk this time, finely woven and translucent, decorated with golden vines and gemstones. He might feel like a man who just got his heart trampled, but there’s no need for Alec to see that. A warlock’s got his pride, after all.

“Hey,” Alec says, stopping at the center of the room. “Thanks for buzzing me up.”

Magnus leans back in his chair, stirring his drink as though he’s got all the time in the world. “What can I do for you this time, Alexander?”

Alec hesitates, and Magnus can clearly see the inner conflict on his face. “We had a deal,” Alec says at last. “I’m here to honour it.”


	2. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic grew a plot on me, and instead of the smutty resolution that was the original plan, there are now 3 parts + an epilogue. Because apparently, Magnus and Alec are In Love™ just as much as they just really want to bang each other. Gah! Why does this always happen to me? XD (FUNNY STORY: I once had to actually substitute a character for another character, because no matter what I did, they kept having insane sexual tension with one half of my main pairing, and that just didn't work for the story at all XD)
> 
> ANYWAY, here is part 2. Please enjoy. :)

It’s not often that Magnus Bane finds himself speechless, but this is definitely one of those times. Alec holds his gaze and, when Magnus doesn’t say anything, moves a hand up to his throat to unzip his jacket. Magnus watches, transfixed, as the material parts, revealing one of Alec’s trademark tight black shirts underneath. Alec shrugs the jacket off his shoulders, and then stops, looking around the room uncertainly.

“Um, where do I—?”

“Here, allow me,” Magnus says, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. Alec steps forward and hands him the jacket, and suddenly they are standing very, very close.

Alec’s eyes are darker than Magnus has ever seen them. They flutter closed when Magnus puts his free hand on Alec’s shoulder and then moves it higher, caressing a path up the side of Alec’s neck and into his hair, guiding him down until their foreheads touch.

Alec’s breath catches.

“We should talk,” Magnus says reluctantly, drawing back.

Alec grabs the front of his shirt, pulls him back in. “I don’t want to talk.”

Gods, Magnus _really_ wants to kiss him.

“All the more reason,” he replies, pulling himself gently out of Alec’s grip. “Have a seat, I’ll make us drinks.”

“Okay, yeah,” Alec says, pulling a hand through his hair. “Drinks are—yeah, that would be good. Thanks.”

Magnus goes to hang Alec’s jacket on the back of a chair, and then busies himself with mixing the weakest cocktails he’s made in a long time. Meanwhile, Alec takes a seat on the couch, and Magnus can feel his eyes on him, following him as he moves.

He takes a deep breath and adds a spark of magic to make the drinks glow and shimmer. He has a sinking feeling that the conversation that’s about to take place won’t be entirely pleasant, and yet, he can’t help but hope.

“Here we go,” he says, turning around with a smile and walking over to sit next to Alec. “Now, let’s start with why you’re really here.”

Alec finishes his drink in two large gulps and holds the glass up to Magnus. “You have any more of these?”

“Certainly,” Magnus replies, snapping his fingers to refill the glass—juice and spritzer only this time around.

“Um, it’s like I said before,” Alec replies, after drinking half of the second drink as well. “We made a deal. I’m here to uphold my end of the bargain.”

Magnus suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “Technically, the deal was that I get Isabelle acquitted,” he points out. “I didn’t manage that.”

“Yeah, but that was just because—you got Lydia to withdraw the charges. You won the case. The fact that the Clave decided to meddle afterwards doesn’t change that.”

“Doesn’t it? If young Clary hadn’t brought the Cup back, Isabelle would have been lost to your world forever.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Alexander, I’m giving you an out,” Magnus says softly, holding up a finger to Alec’s lips to quiet him. “A simple way out of our deal, no questions asked, no hard feelings. Why aren’t you taking it?”

“I—” Alec hesitates, and then blushes fiercely and looks away.

Magnus reaches out and places a hand on Alec’s knee, just the lightest touch, but it makes a shiver go through Alec’s whole body. “Alexander…”

Alec shakes his head and keeps it bowed. His knee presses more firmly into Magnus’ touch. “I don’t know. Why does it matter? Can’t we just—I mean,” he looks up, still flushed, but clearly determined, “I thought you’d be happy.”

Magnus laughs. It comes out sounding sharp and ugly.

“Happy to have you just to lose you again?” he asks pointedly. “After I went almost a _century_ with my heart under lock and key?”

Alec opens his mouth to reply, clearly taken aback. Magnus doesn’t let him. He takes a deep breath, forces the sudden burst of anger back.

“I’m going to paint you a picture,” he says evenly, pressing down against Alec’s knee and letting his fingers caress a small circle around it. “Say I completely ignore the fact that you and I both know that our deal was null and void from the moment it was made, and I pull you close. Our lips meet, and it’s just as electric as we’ve both imagined. Your lips tingle as we deepen the kiss and you slide your arms around my neck. We fall back against the couch, and my body slots in perfectly between your legs. Are you with me so far?”

“I’m—yeah,” Alec says shakily. His hand is gripping the back of the couch so hard his knuckles are starting to turn white.

“Good,” Magnus replies, and then he sends a small burst of magic towards Alec’s hip—just the smallest taste of what he has to offer—lets it travel down Alec’s legs and up his spine; Alec shudders, and a soft moan escapes his lips.

“We take our time to explore each other,” Magnus continues. “I’ve seen you commit to a new task, Alexander—you go into it body and soul, and I don’t like to brag, but fact is that I have centuries of practice. I would drown you in pleasure, over and over again, and you would match me touch for touch until we were both too spent to go another round. And then…”

“And then?” Alec repeats breathlessly.

Magnus moves one hand up to Alec’s face, cups his jaw and waits until Alec opens his eyes. “That’s what I need you to answer for me, darling. What then?”

Alec blinks. “What?”

“Exactly, _what?_ ” Magnus repeats, withdrawing his hand. “What happens after that? Because I do hope you didn’t expect to come here, use me and then go on your merry way.”

The mix of shock and guilt on Alec’s face tells Magnus that that was likely exactly what he’d been thinking. Magnus narrows his eyes, and Alec, at least, has the decency to look ashamed.

“I don’t know what I—I feel like I don’t know _anything_ anymore,” Alec says, getting to his feet and beginning to pace around the room. “You don’t know what it’s like. There’s _so much pressure_ , and I guess I thought—you’re Magnus Bane! You could have anyone you wanted, I mean, you’ve slept with _Michelangelo_ for heaven’s sake!”

“Well, I actually lied about that,” Magnus cuts in. “He died before I was born, regrettably.”

“Whatever!” Alec exclaims. “It’s not about Michelangelo. It’s about—I’m a Shadowhunter. You _know_ what our laws are like! Gods, Izzy fools around with Downworlders, and look where that got her. How can you—I have nothing that I’m allowed to give you, Magnus. _Nothing_.”

He sits down on the end of the couch again, hands clasped in front of him as he rocks back and forth. Magnus waits.

“I have nothing to offer you,” Alec repeats quietly, his voice threatening to break. “This. Me here tonight—it’s all I have.” He looks up at Magnus, pleading with him to understand, and Magnus’ heart feels like it’s breaking.

Wordlessly, he moves closer to Alec and puts his arm around his shoulders. Alec folds into the touch, gratefully letting himself be pulled into a tight hug. He hides his face in the crook of Magnus’ neck, and Magnus can feel the tension in Alec’s back, how hard he’s struggling to keep himself together.

“Oh, darling,” he murmurs, stroking up and down Alec’s back and sending little pinpricks of soothing magic into the muscles as he goes. “You know, this is really not helping the recurring urges I have to shamelessly exploit my age and very good memory to blackmail important members of the Clave by threatening to spill all their deepest, darkest secrets.”

Alec lets out an unbelieving snort.

“I’m just saying,” Magnus continues. “Over the centuries, you end up collecting some juicy stuff. Did you know that disco crossed over into Idris in the 70s? Shadowhunters going about their missions in bell-bottoms and fake afros.”

“Oh Gods, stop it,” Alec manages, laughter breaking from his throat. “There’s no way that happened.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Magnus replies. “Well, not really hope to die. I find I like being among the living.”

Alec pushes back a little and sits up, his hands lingering where the hem of Magnus’ shirt meets his thighs. “Thank you. For not letting me ruin this even further.”

It takes every last inch of Magnus’ self-control not to lean in and capture Alec’s lips with his own. Gods, but Alec really has a unique way to worm himself under his skin. Magnus clears his throat. “So, now that we both agree that the initial deal is off, would you care to hear another suggestion?”

Alec looks up, clearly surprised. “What kind?”

“Go to dinner with me,” Magnus says. “I know a small Indian place around the corner that stays open all night.”

Alec hesitates. “You think that’s wise?”

“I may be old, but no one’s yet accused me of being wise,” Magnus jokes. “It’s your choice.”

Alec takes a moment to think it over, then reaches out and covers Magnus’ hand with his own. “I could eat.”

“There are so many inappropriate jokes I could make with that,” Magnus says, and Alec’s cheeks flush. Magnus turns his hand so that they’re palm to palm, weaving their fingers together and feeling his stomach flutter. “Let’s go then.”

* * *

“...so that’s why I’m no longer welcome in Turkey,” Magnus finishes, with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “No sense of humour in the giant community, it’s a tragedy.”

Alec smiles at him and dips another piece of nan bread into his chicken korma. “Sounds like you deserved it, really. With how the tribes of giants are spread out, I’m surprised you aren’t banned from Greece as well.”

“Now, _that_ would be a real tragedy,” Magnus replies. “I have so many fond memories of Greece. I spent the loveliest year with a warrior there. Sadly, he had a weak spot in the heel, got shot by a lucky arrow and died, right in my arms.”

“You did not have an affair with Achilles,” Alec says, laughing openly now. “The Troyan war—even assuming it’s based on a real historical event—dates back to the twelfth or eleventh century BC. If you weren’t alive to sleep with Michelangelo, you certainly weren’t alive for that.”

“Who said anything about Achilles?” Magnus replies innocently. “I’m talking about a completely different Greek warrior with a vulnerable heel. It’s a quite common affliction among demi-gods, you know.”

“Uh-huh,” Alec says, “ _Another_ Achilles. Of course.”

“Besides, I’d never set my sight on someone whose heart belongs so completely to another man,” Magnus adds. “Let’s just say that there are parts of Homer’s poem that describe other things than the details of war, which sadly have been censored from the copy in the library in Idris, but it’s really—” he breaks off, taking in Alec’s suddenly flustered expression. “Or… maybe not?”

“No, you’re right about the copy in Idris,” Alec says. “I—um—I got a copy from a mundane bookstore some years ago.”

“Reading forbidden literature! Why, Alexander, you never cease to amaze me. What other naughty classics have you managed to find? Not Catullus, I assume? Last time I checked, his poetry was still so shockingly explicit that scholars were refusing to translate it correctly.”

“Not that one, no,” Alec replies. “I don’t know. A number of different ones. It’s not important.”

“I beg to disagree,” Magnus says. “Literature—and poetry especially—collects sparks of the universe itself, keeping them in jars, like fireflies, to set alight the souls of men.”

“That’s—really beautiful,” Alec says. “I don’t know who it’s by, though?”

“Well, you wouldn’t. I only ever wrote it down for my private collection,” Magnus says, soaking up the way Alec’s expression changes at his words. “I haven’t written in a long time. Not since Camille. She never liked my stuff, though. Not enough violence and death.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t really seem like the love and flowers kind of person,” Alec says. “She must have some good qualities, though. Seeing how important she clearly was to you.”

“Whatever I felt for Camille is ancient history,” Magnus replies, reaching across the table to cover Alec’s hand with his. “Almost literally. But yes, I did love her once.”

Alec looks down at their joined hands. “How do you do that? Love someone one day and then just… not do it anymore? How does that work? Even this thing with me—you’re immortal, I’m not. You watch the people you love grow old and die. All things aside, where would that leave us?” Alec shakes his head unhappily and pulls his hand away with a sigh.

“Alexander, I may be the High Warlock of Brooklyn, but not even I can tell the future,” Magnus tries. “Losing the one you love is a risk everyone takes, immortal or not.”

Alec nods but doesn’t seem too convinced. They eat in silence while Magnus tries to think about what to say to turn the mood around.

Alec beats him to it.

“Simonides. That’s my favourite,” he says. “The poem about Echecratidas. I came across it when I was fifteen, right after I came back from my summer in Idris. When I’d—let’s just say it felt very relevant to me at the time.”

Magnus searches his memory. When he finds the verses Alec is referring to, a knowing smile spreads across his lips. “Ah, yes. Blond Echecratidas,” he replies. “ _And I would luxuriate, reclining with the boy among flowers, clearing away from my face white hair and wrinkles, plaiting a flowery crown…_ ”

“Shut up,” Alec says, a blush high in his cheeks. He’s smiling as well, though, so Magnus counts it as a win. “What’s yours?”

“Oh, I have so many favourites,” Magnus replies. “Let’s see… Meleager’s poem to Alexis feels oddly poignant all of a sudden, don’t you think?”

He can tell that Alec knows it from the way his breath catches slightly and his pupils dilate. Magnus takes his hand again, strokes the back of it with his thumb as he recites from memory.

“ _At 12 o'clock in the afternoon_  
_in the middle of the street—Alexis_  
_Summer had all but brought the fruit_  
_to its perilous end:_  
_And the summer sun and that boy's look_  
_did their work on me._  
_Night hid the sun._  
_Your face consumes my dreams._  
_Others feel sleep as feathered rest;_  
_mine but in flame refigures_  
_your image lit in me._ ”

Across from him, Alec swallows, and Magnus sees his eyes flicker down to his lips. The air between them grows thick with possibility.

For the millionth time that night, Magnus finds himself wishing that there was a bubble outside of space and time that he and Alec could disappear to. Finding out that Alec possibly loves literature just as much as Magnus does has not helped to make him easier to resist—quite the opposite. Isabelle’s words from after the trial come back to him, and Magnus groans inwardly.

A Warlock finding his perfect match in a Shadowhunter. Somewhere, the universe is clearly laughing at him.

They spend the rest of the night at the restaurant, sharing stories and reciting verses from their favourite works. Magnus finds out that, despite of having an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of classical literature, Alec has never read Plutarch’s writings on the Sacred Band of Thebes, and really, that needs to be corrected immediately.

Alec startles when the book appears before him—summoned from one of Magnus’ favourite antique shops in the East Village—and then gently reaches out and starts looking through the pages. His smile, when he looks back up at Magnus, is breathtaking, and Magnus feels another one of his walls crumble into dust.

They leave the restaurant at sunrise, walking along the streets of Brooklyn with only the occasional jogger crossing their path.

“Thank you, for tonight,” Alec says as they stop next to an entry to the subway. I’m sorry that I—”

“Shh,” Magnus tells him. “Go home. Take the time you need to make a decision.”

“You’re really being way too selfless and reasonable about this, you know.”

“Oh, Alexander, nothing could be further from the truth,” Magnus replies. “I’m letting you go now for the purely selfish reason that I’m clinging to the naive hope that you’ll come back to me.”

Alec nods and then looks down at the ground, reaches for Magnus’ hand.

“Can we—I mean, would you,” he looks up, meets Magnus’ eyes and visibly swallows, “I know I have no right to ask, but, Magnus, please, I—”

Magnus pulls him a fraction closer. “What do you need, angel?”

“Please kiss me?” Alec asks. “In case things don’t—just… please?”

Magnus wishes he were strong enough to say no—to keep at least a shred of protection around his heart—but the truth is he doesn’t have a sliver of a chance. He nods his head, and Alec’s hands immediately go to the lapels of his jacket, pulling Magnus in and crashing their lips together.

It’s a kiss that burns and consumes, with layers of desperation, frustration, sadness and pure, unfiltered _want_ building on each other and pulling them impossibly close. They break apart only to breathe, chasing each other’s lips for the next kiss, and then the next. Alec throws himself into it with everything he has, and any chance Magnus might still have had to get out of this without a broken heart goes out the window.

They kiss for what feels like forever, and yet it’s over in a blink of an eye. Once they finally part, they still keep close, foreheads touching and hands gripping each other tight. Magnus can still feel the warmth of Alec’s breath against his lips.

“I need to get back to the Institute,” Alec says. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Magnus leans back in, allows himself to have one more kiss, and then lets go. Alec walks away, stopping twice to look back at Magnus over his shoulder, and Magnus takes a deep breath, centers himself and lets himself hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are still love! I love comments! :DDD


	3. Ragnor Fell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story keeps growing like a weed, and I'm having the best time writing it. So it's probably not going to get wrapped up in only 4 parts. My best guess, going from the outline (yes, there is an outline. that, at least, is keeping steady XD) is that there will be six parts, but I'm putting in the question mark for now. lol. (And, yes, there will still be sex, for those who are wondering. Maybe even already in the next part. We'll see how far they end up going. XD).
> 
> Thank you so much, everyone who has commented on the last two chapters. You are making this experience so much fun. Thank you, thank you, thank you. <333

Magnus is sitting on his balcony, drinking a cup of tea and basking in the morning sun when his phone rings. For a moment, he thinks it might be Alec—calling him back less than a couple of hours after their date; the thought makes Magnus’ heart beat a little faster—but, alas, no such luck.

He lifts the phone to his ear and presses the button. “Miss Fairchild. What can I do for you today?”

“Magnus, we need you down at the Institute,” Clary says. “We’ve narrowed down the list of warlocks that could possibly have made the potion for my mom, and we need your help.”

“Well, can you bring the information here?” Magnus asks. “I’ve had an exceedingly pleasant evening and was just about to head to bed.”

“Oh,” Clary says, surprised. “Wait, _did you and Alec_ —”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, my dear,” Magnus replies smugly. “You needed information?”

“Magnus, just come over, please,” Clary says. “We’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“Oh very well,” Magnus agrees. “I’ll go get dressed. Be there in twenty.”

“Wait, you’re _not_ dressed? What happened last night? Magnus, what—”

“Goodbye, my dear,” Magnus says pleasantly, ending the call. He looks down at the clothes he’s been wearing since last night and smiles to himself. The front of his shirt is horribly creased from where Alec’s hands were grasping at it, and Magnus knows his hair and lips must look a mess as well. As much fun as it would be to appear at the Institute giving exactly the right impression of what he’s been up to—well—fashion is a harsh mistress, and Magnus does have standards. Especially on (somewhat) enemy turf.

A flick of his wrist sends the empty tea cup back to the cupboard. Magnus heads to his bedroom, already having an outfit in mind.

* * *

Jace and Clary are dancing around each other, trying to make conversation in spite of the massive pink elephant in the room that is their newly discovered sibling status, and Magnus is getting bored. He’s been at the Institute for a whole ten minutes already, and so far, there’s been no sign of Alec. Not that Magnus had an ulterior motive for agreeing to come down.

“Remind me again why we couldn’t do this at my place?” he asks Clary, looking surreptitiously over her shoulder towards the other end of the room. 

“We invited you here, Magnus, because Hodge can’t leave the Institute,” Jace says. “He’s an important part of the mission.”

Magnus cranes his neck, trying to get a better view of the people milling about just outside the glass doors. “Well, then where is our tardy little tutor? I need to get back to my lair. Catch up on my beauty sleep.”

“Pardon the delay, Magnus,” Hodge says, walking in the room from the other direction. “I was following up on a lead.”

He walks up to the smartboard and starts pushing buttons on his tablet. Magnus tilts his head; there’s something… off about Hodge today—a different kind of energy that he can’t pinpoint.

Then Ragnor’s face appears on the screen, and the mission is hashed out quickly. Magnus gets out of his chair, already considering where the best spot for a portal close to Ragnor’s house would be, when he’s suddenly face to face with Alec and... Lydia—who is standing by Alec’s side, looking unsettlingly happy and nothing like she’d just got some really bad news about her upcoming wedding.

“Magnus!” Lydia says. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Magnus looks from her to Alec, who looks a lot more conflicted and less happily surprised than Magnus would have hoped to see him. “It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

“We’re just on our way to greet a few representatives of the Clave, who arrived early for tomorrow’s wedding,” Lydia continues.

“Is that so?” Magnus says, heart sinking as Alec’s discomfort visibly increases. “The happy occasion is tomorrow, then?”

“Just after sunset,” Lydia confirms, then hesitates and looks from Magnus’ face to Alec’s. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just fine,” Alec says giving her a quick smile. “What’s going on here? No one told me about a meeting.”

“Magnus figured out that Ragnor Fell is the warlock who can wake my mom,” Clary says. “We’re just bringing him back to the Institute.”

“How can I help?” Alec asks immediately. Clary looks between him and Magnus, uncertainty clear on her face, until Jace steps forward.

“We’re just recovering a warlock, Alec,” he says. “We got this covered.”

“Besides,” Magnus adds, rather more cutting than he intended, “You have emissaries from the Clave to meet.”

“Actually,” Lydia says, turning to Alec, “Why don’t you go with them? It’s always good to have a long-ranged weapon in the group.”

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I can take out an enemy at more than a hundred feet,” Magnus says, to which Lydia just smiles.

“Seriously, Alec, go with them,” she repeats. “I think it’d be… good. Get out of the wedding madness in here for a bit. Clear your head.” She gives Alec’s arm a squeeze, then looks back at Magnus with eyes that are both sympathetic and a bit too knowing. “It was lovely seeing you again, Magnus.”

Lydia walks off, leaving both Magnus and Alec to stare after her. Magnus swallows, and then looks over to meet Alec’s gaze. Alec’s face is a study in conflicting emotions; Magnus can relate.

“Well, are we going, then?” Jace says impatiently, walking past both of them and heading for the door. “This warlock isn’t going to retrieve himself.”

* * *

Admittedly, bringing up the brother/sister thing to Jace and Clary might not have been the best way to deal with the awkward tension that lies heavy over their group as they arrive in a field close to Ragnor’s lair. Within minutes, Jace and Clary are practically at each other’s throats, arguing about Jocelyn’s hypothetical reasons for giving Jace up.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Magnus tells Alec under his breath. “I’ve had way too much relationship drama in my life to want to have a front seat in someone else’s, thank you very much.”

Alec snorts. “Drama, you? I can’t picture that at all.”

“Careful, darling,” Magnus replies, slowing his pace to let Alec catch up with him properly. “Speaking of. I hate to ask since, only a few hours ago, I said I’d give you time, but it seems your decision is on a bit of a tight deadline.”

Alec sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “I know. I wanted to talk to Lydia as soon as I got back, but everything is just so crazy with the wedding planning. I haven’t found a good time.”

“But you _are_ planning to?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alec says, sounding both hurt and a little guilty. “This isn’t easy, Magnus. There’s so much as stake, and not just for me and my family. Her future is riding on this match as well.”

Magnus is spared from making further comments as the wards around Ragnor’s property activate, and they’re surrounded by green flames. 

“Well, here we go,” Magnus says. “Everybody ready?”

Clary, Jace and Alec all nod, and together they walk forward into the magical fire.

* * *

Magnus barely has time to feel the fire touch him before he’s portaled into Ragnor’s house and onto an uncomfortable chair. He feels magical binds activate before he has a chance to dispel them and curses silently to himself. Sloppy, sloppy. Clearly, he’s slipping in his old age.

“Magnus Bane!” Ragnor exclaims. “And… friends! Shadowhunter friends. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Where’s Clary?” Jace asks, looking wildly around the room. “I swear, if you’ve hurt her—” 

“Calm down, Mr Wayland,” Ragnor says. “Young Miss Fairchild is perfectly fine. On her way here, as a matter of fact.”

“How do you know who she is?” Alec breaks in. “In fact, how do you know who any of us are, besides Magnus? You don’t seem that surprised that we’re here.”

“Well, when one feels their wards activate, one naturally becomes curious as to who is coming to call,” Ragnor replies. “You must be the eldest Lightwood boy. Pleased to meet you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Alec replies. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

“Oh, I _like_ him, Magnus,” Ragnor says with a chuckle. “He’s got spirit. A Nephilim, though? My dear friend, you do like to make life difficult for yourself, don’t you?”

Magnus just rolls his eyes. “Could we get to the point, please? These bindings are cutting off my circulation.”

“I imagine you need my help with something,” Ragnor says. “Well, what will you give me in return?”

“I’m sure we can work out a fair deal,” Jace says. “Can you let us go now?”

“So you can outnumber me and ‘convince’ me to do your bidding?” Ragnor replies. “Please, I wasn’t born yesterday. And Magnus, stop doing that. It’s not going to work, you’ll just give yourself rope burn.”

Magnus looks back at him innocently, but lets the spell he started fizzle out and die. “There’s a lovely new musical on Broadway I could get us box seats to?”

“Tempting, but do better,” Ragnor replies. “I’m not overly keen to work with Shadowhunters. Bit too much bad blood in the past. Unless you’re willing to make my work environment as pleasant as I’m sure it is for Magnus?” He says the last bit with a wink in Alec’s direction.

“Sorry, he’s spoken for,” Magnus says. “Twice, actually. Then again, Jace here is single.”

Jace turns and glares at him. “Hey, fuck you.”

“Sorry, darling, you’re not my type,” Magnus quips. On the third chair, he sees Alec duck his head and try to contain his laughter. “Seems you’re out of luck with the seduction angle, Ragnor. How about a timeshare on my apartment in Paris? Quartier Latin, right next to the Seine, lovely little place _sous les toits_ that’s just perfect for a weekend getaway?”

“I’m happy to see you haven’t changed a bit, my friend,” Ragnor says, then turns his head towards the door and listens intently. “Ah, here is young Clarissa now. If you’ll excuse me.”

He moves his hands, and gold sparks appear, raining down over the room. “There, a small invisibility glamour to keep you from interfering,” he says. “Ta for now!”

Magnus sighs, leans back in his seat and smiles to himself. Trust Ragnor to always make things as dramatic as possible.

“Relax,” he tells Jace, who seems ready to try to break out of the bonds by sheer force of will, “I’ve known Ragnor forever. He isn’t going to hurt Clary, just trick her a bit, if he can.”

“You seem awfully calm for someone who is essentially a prisoner,” Jace throws back. “Anything you want to share with the class? Maybe you called ahead to warn him, made sure he was here, ready and waiting for us…?”

“Cut it out, Jace,” Alec says tiredly. “Fighting amongst ourselves won’t help, and I trust Magnus. Now, Ragnor said invisibility glamour, so I’m assuming Clary won’t be able to see us—will she hear us?”

“Not likely, no.”

“So then we wait and watch,” Alec decides. “It’ll be fine, Jace, calm down.”

A couple of minutes later, Clary shows up, pulls Ragnor out of a painting he went to hide in and foolishly agrees to give Ragnor anything he wants if he’ll agree to help them. Magnus would drop his head in his hands if they weren’t tied behind his back.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Ragnor says, and releases them from the spells. He runs off to get whatever it is that might lead them to the Book of the White, and Magnus takes the opportunity to look around the room.

“It’s a bit drab, isn’t it?” he starts to say, when there’s sudden movement to his left, and before he knows it, Alec has his bow up, firing off three arrows in quick succession.

A Shax demon falls down into the room from a second floor landing, clearly dead, a shocked Ragnor looking down after it.

“That thing was coming right for my throat,” he says, bringing up his hand to make sure he’s, in fact, still in one piece. He shimmers for a moment and then reappears on the floor next to the rest of them, holding out a hand to Alec. “Thank you. I believe you just saved my life.”

“How could a Shax demon get through the wards?” Clary asks, eyes wide as she looks around for anything else that might be coming.

“It must have followed us,” Jace replies. “Jumped through when the firewall reset. We need to leave. Now. If one Shax demon found us, you can bet there are more on the way.”

“Excellent idea,” Ragnor says, still looking a bit shaky. “Let me just grab what I was thinking of, to track the book.”

“I’ll come with you,” Alec says, moving over to the dead demon and pulling out his arrows. “Magnus, will you get the portal ready? Jace and Clary, cover him while he works. We’re leaving this place as soon as we can.”

Magnus nods and starts focusing his magic. Jace stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t send us to the Institute,” he says. “This attack can’t have been a coincidence; Valentine must have been tracking us, which means we have a mole.”

Magnus nods; he’s been thinking the same thing. “Any ideas of who it could be?”

“Only one,” Jace says. “Lydia was _right there_ when we were talking about Ragnor. I swear, if she’s the leak, I’m gonna—”

“Slow down,” Clary cuts in. “We don’t know if she did anything yet.”

“Let’s go through the different options once we’re not in a location that’s been compromised, shall we?” Magnus suggests. “I’ll set up the portal to my loft, we can regroup from there.”

“Fine by me,” Jace says. “I’ll call Izzy, tell her where to meet us.”

Magnus turns his attention to the portal as Jace takes out his phone.

“Line’s busy.”

“Well, try again,” Clary says. “We need to get her away from the Institute.”

“I put it on automatic re-dial, Clary. It’s not picking up,” Jace replies. “She’s already on the phone with someone—hang on, trying again.”

“Calm down, Izzy, I can’t hear what you’re saying,” they hear Alec’s voice, as he comes walking towards them from the other room. “Yeah, we’re all fine. Everyone’s here, we— _what?_ ”

Alec’s face pales at whatever Izzy is telling him, and Magnus moves towards him without thinking. Alec looks at him with wide eyes, and then grabs hold of Magnus’ arm almost painfully tight, holding on to him like a lifeline.

“We’ll be right there,” he tells Izzy. “Sit tight, okay? We’re on our way.”

He pockets his phone and looks up at them. “We have to get back to the Institute,” he says. “That was Izzy on the phone. Hodge has betrayed us—he attacked Lydia and escaped with the Cup.”

* * *

The Institute is in absolute chaos when they get there, full lockdown procedure in place. Since Magnus was the one who strengthened the wards in the first place, it thankfully doesn’t pose a problem.

Isabelle is the first to reach them, and Magnus’ eyes widen as he takes in her blood-soaked dress, as well as several long scratch marks on both her arms that don’t seem to be healing. 

“This way,” she says, grabbing hold of Magnus’ forearm and steering him away. “Alec, you come too. And please hurry.”

Magnus follows her lead, Alec right by his side. Lydia’s in the infirmary, laid out on an operating table with four healers drawing runes across her skin.

There’s a lot of blood. Next to him, Alec makes a shocked, pained sound and rushes forward.

“Lydia! Lydia, can you hear me?”

Magnus jumps right into work, magic flaring up and pouring out of his hands. The healers quickly step back, giving him more room.

“Lydia had taken out the Cup to show it to some of the emissaries from the Clave,” Isabelle says. “We were gathered in the Atrium, perhaps ten-fifteen people. Hodge attacked from one of the hidden passageways. He used some kind of object to open a portal, and before anyone had time to react, demons were just pouring in. Lydia had a small seraph blade on her and I had my whip. Most of the others were unarmed. We managed to push the demons back, but we got separated and then Hodge snuck up from behind and stabbed Lydia in the side with his stele. She just fell to the floor. I’m so sorry, Alec; I tried to get to her, I swear I did, I—”

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Alec interrupts her. “You did everything you could.”

“I can’t believe he did this,” Izzy says. “He’s _family_ , we all grew up with him.”

“Isabelle, please run and get Ragnor,” Magnus cuts in. “I need an extra set of hands; she’s holding on by a thread.”

Alec is by his side in an instant, holding up his hand. “Here, use my strength as well.”

Magnus grabs his hand gratefully, breathing a sigh of relief as Alec’s power soars through him. He can tell how worried Alec is through the connection, how much he needs Lydia to be okay, and that makes saving her even more important. He puts all his focus into the deep cut in Lydia’s side, pouring magic into the angel blade wound and trying to will it to start knitting back together.

There’s another surge of magic in the room, and Magnus can tell that Ragnor has joined him. They haven’t done magic together in over a century, but somehow, it’s just like riding a bike. Ragnor’s magic moves in synch with his own, and the flow of blood from Lydia’s side _finally_ begins to lessen. Magnus can do this; he just needs to push a little bit further...

“Careful now,” Ragnor says, his voice sounding like it’s coming from very far away. “Slow down, my friend, you’re releasing your magic too quickly.”

 _I’m fine,_ Magnus tries to tell him, even as his head begins to spin. He can sense that there’s more bleeding inside Lydia’s body, and he’s almost got the source pinpointed...

“Magnus, stop,” Alec’s voice rings out. “Ragnor, how do I stop him? Gnnngh!”

Somehow, the pained sound coming from Alec’s throat cuts right through the fog in Magnus’ mind. He sends a last big push of magic into Lydia’s wound and then wrenches himself away, overbalancing as he does and taking Alec down with him.

“Ow,” Alec says, raising a hand to push against his forehead. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“It did the trick, though,” Ragnor says from somewhere above Magnus. “The bleeding is under control and her pulse is getting steadier. If someone gets the healers back in here, they can start up the _iratzes_ again.”

“On it,” Izzy says. “Alec, are you and Magnus alright?”

“I think so,” Alec says. “Help me get him to my room, will you? I think he overexerted himself.”

“Skin to skin contact is the most effective way for warlocks to regain their energy,” Ragnor comments casually. “I’ve got Miss Branwell here under control. Go rest up.”

The last thing Magnus is aware of before he blacks out is Alec’s arms around his back and beneath his knees, lifting him up off the floor.


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who keeps reading and commenting. Love you all! <333

Magnus wakes up surrounded by heat. He’s in an unfamiliar bed, and the scent, warmth and energy of another body is soaking into his skin from every direction. He and his partner are wrapped up in each other’s arms, and it seems that both of them are missing at least half of their clothes. Magnus’ head is resting on a well-muscled chest, right above the heart, and it’s pure instinct to tighten his arms around his partner’s back and try to pull himself closer. His brain and body feel heavy and sluggish—the unfortunate side effect of letting his magic run too low—but there’s the sharp, humming energy of newly restored magic as well, like a growing light just beneath his skin and a crackle of electricity at the tip of his fingers. The other person’s back is firm and smooth beneath his hands, and Magnus turns his head a bit and drags his lips across warm skin. He feels like he’s floating.

He moves lazily, soaking up the other person’s heat and drawing slow, easy spirals on their back with his fingers. He can sense his partner starting to wake up as well, the heartbeat under his ear speeding up and the man’s breaths turning more shallow. Magnus smiles to himself, turns his head to place another kiss right next to their heartbeat. Slowly and—hesitantly? Magnus can’t quite pinpoint the somehow stuttering quality of the movement—the other person’s hands start stroking across Magnus’ skin in return, growing bolder when Magnus sighs happily and adjusts his body a bit to give them better access. The touches move down his spine, almost dipping down to his tailbone before quickly turning and settling on his waist instead, strong fingers digging into his skin almost desperately. 

Magnus moans, and the urge to get his hands and mouth all over the other person’s skin intensifies. He continues to kiss his way slowly up their sternum, then shifts to the right, closing his lips around a nipple and settling in to explore.

The person with him draws in a breath so sharp it’s almost a sob and arches into the touch. Magnus smiles to himself and carefully worries the nub with his teeth, relishing each hitched breath and bitten off moan that he manages to elicit. The need to touch only grows, so he lets his hands travel down his partner’s back, slipping under the elastic of a pair of loose track pants and mapping out a glorious backside before taking a firmer hold and pulling their hips together. 

“Oh _fuck_ , Magnus, that’s—” comes Alec’s breathless voice from above him, and the next thing Magnus knows, he’s being twisted around onto his back and pressed into the mattress, both of Alec’s hands coming up to tangle in his hair and pull him in for a searing kiss.

Magnus gasps into the kiss as understanding hits him, his blissed-out brain finally filling in the blanks about the body on top of him. Alec—it’s _Alec’s_ perfect chest against his own, Alec’s hand stroking down the side of his face and then back up around the back of his neck. Alec’s mouth on his and Alec’s energy positively soaking into Magnus’ body.

Magnus groans and surges up against him, kissing Alec back fervently. Their hips start moving together, in stuttering little pushes from Alec that Magnus does his best to meet, and Magnus’ magic is singing in his veins, replenishing itself in a swirling haze of lust as Alec deepens the kiss.

He’s soaring, higher and higher, tethered to the present only by the deep, pulsing ache in his groin that grows every time he and Alec press together and with every overwhelmed, needy sound that Alec makes. His heart feels like it’s swelling out of his chest, too full and too _happy_ all of a sudden, and that— 

Magnus opens his eyes and blinks, trying to focus through the haze in his mind. There’s something at the back of it, like a tendril of smoke trying to get his attention—a smell of citrus and flowers, a flash of long blonde hair— 

His eyes widen in realisation. He turns his head sharply to break the kiss and puts his hands on Alec’s hips, pushing them up and creating a few inches of crucial distance.

Alec looks back at him in confusion, pupils blown and lips parted, and it takes everything Magnus has not to give in and pull him back down. The magic is still soaring in his blood, wild and new, and he has to clench his teeth and breathe deeply to pull it back a little, keep himself in check.

“Magnus, what—?” Alec asks, voice cracking. “Don’t stop. Please, I don’t want you to stop...”

Magnus can see that he’s telling the truth; at least here in this moment, Alec desperately wants him, and from the way he carefully lowers his head back down, catching Magnus’ lower lip like a question, Magnus somehow also knows that there is more to this than Alec just getting caught up in the moment.

Magnus _really_ hates being the old and responsible one. 

“Not that I’m in any way complaining about this mind-blowing turn of events,” he tells Alec quietly, after breaking their kiss again, “but this is quite the change from where we were only this morning. So I need to ask: is everything alright?”

The confusion on Alec’s face deepens into a mess of conflicting emotions. They lie there, just holding each other’s gaze for a long time, until Alec sighs and pulls back a little, slumping back against the pillows. “I don’t know. It feels like everything around us is falling apart. Hodge. Lydia. The Cup going missing. It’s just—a lot to take in. And being here with you, it feels _good_. Like I don’t have to think about all of that just yet. And you were in my bed—and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve secretly wanted that—and then Ragnor said that thing about skin to skin, and I just... It seemed to make sense. I’m sorry.” 

Magnus rolls over so that he can put his head back on Alec’s chest, bringing up a hand to gently play with the hair there. “Don’t be sorry, darling. I’m hardly one to judge; I’ve used sex as a means of escape more times than I can count. Sometimes quite literally, even.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Oh, it was no hardship,” Magnus says with a smile. “I never grant favours I don’t want to give. Perks of having one or two magical aces up your sleeve.”

“So you don’t—? I’m really not trying mess things up. Seems I just have a talent for it.”

Magnus chuckles and raises his head. “Don’t worry about it. After all, no harm done. Apart from the fact that we’re both likely to die from blue balls.”

“Well, that’d be one way to not have to think about the upcoming war,” Alec quips, then immediately looks disgusted with himself. “I’m sorry, that was really tasteless.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says, and then dips his head to place a soft kiss against Alec’s collarbone, “It’s okay. I _like_ you, warts and all. So just relax, and we’ll take things that get thrown at us one at a time.”

“Yeah,” Alec replies. “I’d like that.”

“Good, then it’s settled. Now tell me what kind of tall tales about warlocks Ragnor has been filling your head with.”

* * *

After some initial fidgeting, some lingering touches and figuring out how to comfortably lie in bed next to each other without escalating things again (during which, at one glorious point, Alec has to excuse himself to go take a cold shower; Magnus smirks the whole time he is gone), they spend another few hours in bed together, while Magnus gets his magic back to safe levels and Alec takes a much-needed nap. They get dressed together in companionable silence, and as much as Magnus wants to reach out and touch, he also loves the way Alec’s eyes follow his movements as he slides a new shirt over his head and starts doing up the buttons at the neck.

“Okay, so first stop is the infirmary, see how Lydia is doing,” Alec says. “Then I need to find Jace, see if we can track whatever Ragnor brought from his house to the _Book of the White_.”

“Actually, warlock tracking is stronger,” Magnus says. “If you want to sidestep that particular issue for another day.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Alex sighs. “Me and Jace… it’s definitely a bit fucked up right now. Has been for a while, to be honest. I’m kind of expecting Izzy to lock us in a closet and force us to talk any minute now.”

“Interesting choice of metaphor,” Magnus says with a smirk.

“No, she’ll stuff us in a literal closet.”

“See, this is why I love Isabelle,” Magnus says. “She’s a ‘take no prisoners’ kind of person. I’ve always liked that in a woman. That, long hair and a good right hook.”

“Oh please,” Alec replies, rolling his eyes. “She’d eat you up and spit you out in a week. Two if you were lucky.”

“So you’re saying I’m better off with you?”

Alec looks like he’s going to make another teasing remark, but instead closes his mouth and presses his lips tightly together before speaking. “I honestly don’t know.”

Magnus puts a hand on his arm. “You will.”

* * *

Jace, Clary and Izzy are gathered at the surveillance station when Alec and Magnus get back, going through footage from the past few days.

“We’ve been trying to figure out how Hodge could have gotten hold of the object that opened the portal,” Izzy explains. “No luck, so far.”

“You think someone smuggled it past the wards?” Alec asks.

“Maybe,” Jace replies. “After all, Hodge wasn’t the only ex-circle member around here.”

“Look,” Izzy says. “I know I don’t always see eye to eye with my parents, but they’re not traitors.”

“Really? Isn’t that something you would have said about Hodge as well before this happened?”

Hurt flashes in Izzy’s eyes before she turns back to the screens.

“Well, bringing in an object powerful enough to open a portal inside the Institute wards with demon energy on the other side would definitely have triggered the perimeter alarm after I strengthened the wards,” Magnus says. “So I’d suggest you look at earlier footage, from before the Forsaken attack.”

“It’d have to be after Clary found the Cup, though,” Alec says. “There would have been no point for Hodge to take such a huge risk before then, even if he’s been loyal to Valentine this whole time.”

“That narrows down the timeline,” Izzy says. She brings up the search results for Hodge and starts fast-forwarding through the footage.

“There,” Jace says, pointing at the screen, where Hodge is bending over the dead Forsaken right after the attack, picking something out of its pocket. “Seems he was just the delivery boy.”

“If Hodge gives the Cup to Valentine, he’ll create an army of Shadowhunters,” Alec says. “We need to find him. Fast.”

“And he’s already got a head start,” Jace replies. “Okay, let’s head out.”

“Wait!” Clary interrupts. “What about the _Book of the White_?”

“I’m sorry, Clary, but waking up your mom will have to wait. Finding Hodge takes priority.”

“No, but what if finding the book can help us find Valentine?” Clary asks. “My mom was married to him. She’d know him better than anyone, right? Maybe she can lead us to him.”

“Clary has a point,” Magnus says. “Back in the days of the Circle, everyone in the Downworld knew that Jocelyn was Valentine’s one weak spot. It’s probably one of the reasons he kept her under such tight control towards the end.”

“So we’ll split up,” Izzy says. “Clary and I will go with Magnus to find the book, and Jace and Alec can go after Hodge.”

“Wait a minute,” Alec says. “Shouldn’t we know where the book is before deciding who goes where? What if—”

“Dammit, Alec!” Jace interrupts. “We don’t have time for this. Izzy and Clary can handle a fucking book. Let’s go already.”

“Go,” Magnus says, putting a hand on Alec’s arm. “I’ll make sure they’re fine. Or they’ll make sure that I am—I think Isabelle still has one up on me in the who-saves-who department.”

“Fine,” Alec agrees. “Check in on Lydia for me, please? Tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Will do,” Magnus promises. “I should go and check on Ragnor anyway. Make sure he doesn’t run his magic too low. Get himself caught up in any compromising positions...”

He says the last part with a small wink, utterly enjoying the way Alec ducks his head to hide his reaction.

* * *

Lydia is sitting up on the operating table when Magnus enters the room, fully dressed and looking on with thinly veiled impatience as the Institute healers run their steles up and down her arms and legs.

“I keep telling you, there’s nothing more to find,” Ragnor comments from a chair in a corner, where he’s settled in with a big plate of fruit. “Poking her with sticks isn’t going to change it.”

“They’re just doing their jobs, Ragnor,” Lydia says evenly, like they’ve already had this discussion a few times. “I told you, there’s procedure to be followed.”

“Ah, yes, procedure,” Ragnor replies. “Well, then, by all means. Have a strawberry while you wait?” He tosses it into the air and sends a small spark of magic after it. The strawberry shimmers out of view and reappears in Lydia’s hand.

Lydia smiles. “Thank you, Ragnor. I do appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Ragnor replies. “Angel blade wounds are nearly always fatal, you know. It takes takes piles of magic to heal, not to mention dedication—speaking of which, here’s my suicidal friend now. All recovered, then, Magnus?”

“Oh, Ragnor, you know it takes more than a little healing magic to wear me out,” Magnus says, walking over to him and stealing a piece of mango. “Perfectly fine, as you can see. Lydia, how are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed in the side,” Lydia replies. “What’s the latest news about the attack?”

“They’ve figured out how Hodge managed to bring the demons into the Institute,” Magnus tells her. “Jace and Alec are trying to track him down. Alec asked me to tell you that he’ll check in with you as soon as he gets back.”

“Good,” Lydia says. “Then I should get back to Command and start coordinating with the Clave. I’m guessing Maryse is already in the thick of that?”

“Very likely,” Magnus says. “She does like her power plays. Not to mention the chance to prove herself an asset and deflect possible suspicion.”

“You think she was involved?”

“For Alexander’s sake, I’ll say no for now,” Magnus replies. “But I’ve lived a long time. Very few things surprise me.”

Lydia nods and slips down from the table, thanking the healers politely as they file out of the room. She rolls down the sleeves of her shirt and shrugs into a jacket that’s lying besides her.

“This thing with you and Alec,” she starts, fixing him with an assessing gaze. “It’s more than just casual, isn’t it? You truly care for him.”

Magnus shifts nervously but manages a smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Lydia says, “I’m not blind. I knew from the first time Alec started stuttering and talking about how _magical_ you were that something was going on. It’s okay, I get it. But he and I are getting married. Tomorrow.”

“Aaaand, that’s my cue to leave,” Ragnor cuts in, standing up from his chair. “I’ll go get started on tracking the book. Oh, and please don’t kill each other.”

“Thank you, Ragnor, your concern is truly touching,” Magnus tells the back of his head. The door closes, and he and Lydia are alone. “So I suppose we should talk.”

Lydia nods. “If the situation were different, this wouldn’t even have to be a problem,” she says. “I have great admiration for Alec, but there are no romantic feelings between us. My husband was killed less than a year ago and I have no desire to replace him.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

“This match makes us the official new heads of the New York institute. Presenting a clean front will be critical for whether we’ll get to keep it.”

“Ah. And I suppose a torrid affair with a Downworlder would tarnish that image,” Magnus says drily. “Even if it were just the rumour of one.”

“It’s nothing personal, Magnus,” Lydia replies. “It’s just how things work. As Shadowhunters, we learn that our duty to our family supersedes our personal desires.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. And yet you always seem to end up doing whatever falls in line with those desires.”

Lydia’s expression hardens. “I could say the same thing about warlocks.”

“Touché. Except we never pretended otherwise. When you’re immortal, there are really just so many paths you can take: build a glorious legacy, get bored and get perpetually drunk, or go crazy and try to bring about the end of the world. Actually, now that I think about it, two and three often work in combination. I should probably start working on growing a moustache to twirl.”

Lydia doesn’t waver. “From what _I_ know, warlocks are fiercely loyal,” she says. “You keep the people you’re responsible for close, and you’ll go through fire for the ones you love. I guess what I’m asking is how far you’re willing to go for Alec, if he decides to go through with the wedding.”

She keeps her ground, every inch a warrior, looking Magnus straight in the eye while he considers his answer. Magnus really hates how much he likes her.

“Well, in the end, it’s Alexander’s choice to make, not yours or mine,” he says. “It would bring me no happiness to stand in the way of what he wants.”

“Good. And it is,” Lydia agrees. “I guess I just wanted us to both acknowledge that openly.”

Magnus hums in agreement and gives her a small smile. “It’s really a shame about the whole Shadowhunter thing,” he says. “You would have made a good warlock.”

Lydia tilts her head and smiles sweetly. “You would have made a terrible Shadowhunter.”

“Very true. Then shall we put our differences aside and go save the world?” Magnus suggests, holding out his arm in invitation. “It would be a terrible waste of all this emotional maturity if Valentine got his hands on the Cup and killed us all, don’t you think?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lydia takes it. “Most definitely. Lead the way.”


	5. Hotel DuMort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeees, story is both flowing really well, writing-wise, and there are finally few enough scenes left laid out in the outline to make me confident I'll be able to wrap it up in two more parts. And I'm so excited for those two parts! And this one. This fic is THE MOST FUN to write, honestly. :DDD
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and commenting. <333

“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” Magnus says when he opens his eyes after tracking the bookmark Ragnor brought from his lair. “The good news is I know the owner. The bad? It’s Camille. Looks like Raphael has her locked up in the basement of Hotel DuMort.”

“Well, after I punched her, there’s no way she’ll help me,” Clary sighs. “What’s plan B?”

“Oh, if I know Camille, anything can be bought and sold for the right price,” Ragnor says. “Except for her affection.”

“To Camille, immortals aren’t supposed to feel true love,” Magnus explains. “We’re to party and have fun to our hearts’ content, without the anchors of love around our feet.”

“Good thing you’re not Camille,” Ragnor tells him. “Hotel DuMort, you say? I don’t imagine…?”

“Oh, Raphael is still there,” Magnus says, smirking. “Looking even better than he did half a century ago.”

“Wait, are you implying that _Raphael Santiago_ might have a weak spot?” Izzy cuts in, looking between Ragnor and Magnus delightedly. “Mr Aloof-And-Untouchable himself?”

“Oh, he’s still quite untouchable,” Magnus says. “The physical side of things isn’t really his cup of tea, but oh, is he ever a fool for romance.” He directs the last part straight at Ragnor, who narrows his eyes warningly in reply.

“We were good friends back when he was a fledgling,” Ragnor tells Isabelle. “Magnus just likes to tease, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Well, you know what they say, always marry your best friend,” Magnus quips.

“Seems I might not get to be the bait on this mission,” Izzy says with a wide smile. “So if you’re both old _friends_ with Raphael, then why don’t we just go to the hotel? Have a straight-forward negotiation. Clary, can you call Simon, tell him we’re coming over?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Clary says. “I’ll meet you by the door. Bring a blade for me?”

“If you’re going to negotiate a deal with the vampires, can I come with you?” Lydia asks from behind them, making both Magnus and Ragnor jump.

Izzy raises an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re not going to try and stop us?”

“The Cup is on its way to Valentine as we speak,” Lydia replies. “Ragnor filled me in about the book while he was finishing up with my wounds. I agree that—barring capturing Hodge before he gets to his goal—waking up Jocelyn and hearing what information she has is our best option. The alliance with the vampires is fragile; having a representative of the Clave there might help to keep things… more diplomatic.”

“Or it’s a sure way to make everything explode in our faces,” Izzy says. “And not the fun kind of explode.”

“I’m sensing dear Lydia is not actually asking,” Magnus says. “We’ll meet you in front of the hotel in fifteen minutes. Ragnor and I have an errand to run first.”

Ragnor crosses his arms and looks back at Magnus suspiciously. “What kind of tricks are you up to now, my friend?”

“Oh, none at all,” Magnus replies. “I’m merely going to make sure that things go as smoothly as possible. Now, what wine was it that Raphael was always so partial to? Ragnor, be a doll and refresh my memory.”

“The 1787 Chateau d'Yquem,” Ragnor replies surly. “I doubt even you have a bottle of that in your cellar, however.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Magnus tells him fondly. “Also, you might want to change your shirt. Something silver—that always works wonderfully with your skin.”

“Oooh, I have just the thing!” Isabelle exclaims. Ragnor gives her a withering look. “So, that’s a no, then?”

“I’m guessing we can save dressing Ragnor up for later,” Magnus says, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “For a first date, perhaps?”

“And you wonder why I won’t answer your fire calls,” Ragnor says. “Well, if that’s all, let’s get going?”

“Good idea,” Lydia agrees, falling into step next to him as they walk towards the exit.

* * *

“Ah, here it is,” Magnus says, pulling out a wooden box from a number of identical boxes on a shelf and opening the lid. “1787 Chateau d'Yquem. A fine vintage to be sure; I always knew trading that goat was a good decision.”

“You seem to have been making some other interesting trades lately,” Ragnor replies. “I noticed Isabelle was wearing Camille’s ruby around her neck?”

“She helped protect a room full of warlocks. I gifted it to her.”

“Ah,” Ragnor says simply. “And what of the original owner?”

“I stopped feeling things for Camille over a century ago,” Magnus replies, and then rolls his eyes when Ragnor gives him an extremely sceptical look. “Okay fine, so maybe it’s a little shorter than that. But I think I can safely say that I’m over her; it’s been one hundred and thirty-eight years since we last spoke.”

“Not that you’re counting.”

“The point is,” Magnus adds, “Camille’s my past—not my present, and certainly not my future.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally realised that,” Ragnor replies softly. “I hated seeing you so closed off after she left you. But I always knew that, one day, love _would_ come back to you.”

Magnus feels a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. The past twenty-four hours have made it almost impossible for him to keep his hope in check. “Well, nothing’s settled yet.”

“It’s clear as day that boy cares for you,” Ragnor says. He walks up next to Magnus, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “And call me a hopeless romantic, but I do believe that love wins out over duty in the end. Don’t give up on him.”

“Thanks, my friend,” Magnus replies. “You always gave the best advice.”

Ragnor smiles and pats him on the back. “Would be nice if you took it more than every three hundred years.”

* * *

Walking into the Hotel DuMort poses no problem, and when Raphael sees Ragnor among their group, his expression melts into one of pleased surprise. Magnus knew bringing Ragnor with them would be an excellent idea.

“Ragnor Fell, I’ll be damned. I haven’t seen you in… forty years or so?”

“Forty-two,” Ragnor replies, holding out his hand for Raphael to shake. “It’s good to see you, Raphael. I hear you’ve moved up in the world.”

“I did. Turned out the Clan had an opening. Camille’s indiscretions finally caught up with her.”

“Hey!” Simon exclaims. “I’m standing right here, you know. _Person_ , not ‘indiscretion’, please.”

“Well, seeing as you’re dead, _cielo_ , you’re technically not a person anymore,” Raphael replies, grinning.

“Speaking of Camille, Raphael,” Izzy cuts in, “we have a teeny, tiny little favour to ask.”

“Do you now?” Raphael replies, turning towards her. “And what favour might that be?”

“Oh, nothing, really. We just need to borrow her for a bit. In here, of course. She has information we want.”

Raphael squares his shoulders and sends Izzy his most charming smile. “Sorry, no can do. She’s far too dangerous.”

“But we really need to talk to her,” Clary tries. “She has a spellbook that could wake up my mom. And we need my mom to stop Valentine.”

Raphael looks over at Magnus for confirmation; Magnus nods. “It’s true, we tracked the _Book of the White_ to her.”

Raphael looks at each of them in turn, quietly assessing. “Still no. I can let you have access to her things if you want.”

“Come on, Raphael, we need to help them with this,” Simon says. “If Valentine gets the Cup, the entire Downworld is in danger.”

“Simon is right!” Clary chimes in. “This book isn’t something Camille would just leave lying around. We _need_ to see her.”

Magnus shares an exasperated look with Ragnor and decides to step in.

“Raphael, come now,” he says. “No one knows how absolutely vicious Camille can be than we do, but let’s do the math, shall we? Two high warlocks, three Shadowhunters and as many members of your Clan as you’d like. I’d say the odds are _vastly_ in our favour.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still up to me to decide what I deem an acceptable risk when it concerns my Clan. And am telling you this one is too high.”

“So what would be needed to change your mind?” Lydia asks, stepping forward as well. “Like Simon said, Valentine puts the entire Downworld in danger. The Clave can offer you protection.”

“The Clave?” Raphael replies with a chuckle. “When has the Clave ever truly stood up for a Downworlder? No, I prefer protection with a bit more… spark.”

“You want warlock protection,” Lydia states, crossing her arms.

“Right in one. I imagine Magnus could provide what I require, on behalf of the Clave. For the right price.” He smirks at Lydia and then inclines his head towards Magnus. “Feel free to discuss.”

Magnus is momentarily struck speechless. He has no doubt that Simon has been talking Raphael’s ear off with every single bit of gossip he got from Clary. But to think that Raphael would try and force the Clave’s hand on Magnus’ behalf… Misguided though it is, Magnus feels a sudden need to fiercely hug him.

He looks over at Lydia and sees that she has come to the same conclusions about what kind of deal Raphael is suggesting. Everything about her face and body language is projecting strength and confidence, but Magnus sees a flash of genuine fear in her eyes.

A few words from Magnus now and the wedding would be off, Lydia’s dream of running an Institute dashed a second time, and likely giving her no other choice but to return to Idris. And while Alec would probably be pissed as hell, he would also be given _time_ —to explore who he is and what he wants with new eyes—before Maryse and Robert would start trying to set up a new political match for him.

Magnus can hardly remember being more tempted to accept an offer, even though he knows that it would pretty much guarantee that none of the Lightwoods would ever talk to him again. The temptation puts its claws into his spine, making him ache with how _easy_ it would be.

He thinks back on Alec’s face, of how happy and carefree he looked sitting in a nondescript Indian restaurant, talking about Latin poetry—how happy Magnus, himself, felt sitting opposite him. Magnus doesn’t know Alexander Lightwood nearly as well he’d like to, but he knows the deep, loyal love that keeps Alec centred, even at times when Alec probably wishes he could feel less for his family than he does.

“Well, then,” Lydia says, and Magnus has to admire her even more for choosing to be the one who sets the ball rolling. “What’s your price going to be, Magnus?”

Magnus meets her eye and gives himself a minute while pretending he’s thinking about it.

“I don’t even know if there is enough gold in Idris to pay my bill for such a large contract,” he says eventually. “Oh, wait, yes there is. Though you might need to cut down a bit on the glamours and travel expenses to make ends meet afterwards.”

“Gold?” Lydia repeats, and Magnus can see the suspicion in her eyes. “Is that all?”

“Unless you want to give me diamonds?” Magnus replies. “Those beauties are forever, after all.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lydia says, and there’s the smallest of smiles at the corner of her mouth. Magnus feels himself answering it.

“Alright, then, with that settled, you can talk to Camille,” Raphael says, after looking back and forth between them. “But I want a sun circle around the coffin, and no one who isn’t already dead gets closer to her than ten feet.”

“Done,” Clary says immediately. “Oh, thank you, Raphael, I—”

“Not you,” Raphael interrupts smoothly. “You’re too close to Simon, and Camille is his sire. Neither of you goes into that room.”

“But I—”

“That’s my condition,” Raphael says calmly. “Take it or leave it. Actually, Magnus, you stay out of this as well—powerful warlock or not, Camille’s always been able to play you like a fiddle. ”

Magnus rolls his eyes but concedes the point.

“That leaves Ragnor, me and Isabelle,” Lydia says. “Will you and members of your Clan be joining us?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Raphael replies. “Simon, please make sure our remaining guests are comfortable while we’re gone.”

“I really think—”Clary starts again, trailing off when Raphael straight out ignores her in favour of showing Ragnor, Lydia and Izzy towards a staircase. She slumps down on one of the gold-coloured couches and drops her chin in her hands. “Well, this sucks.”

“I’m sure he’s just looking out for you,” Simon says, immediately coming to take a seat next to her.

“It’s my mom, Simon. If I can help in any way, I need to be down there.”

“I know. Maybe there’s a way we could—”

Both of them gasp when a ring of blue fire appears around them. They look over to Magnus, who’s laid himself out on the second couch, making himself comfortable and gesturing for one of the vampires standing guard to bring him some refreshments. 

“Terribly sorry, my little chickpeas, but there’ll be no spy antics on my watch,” Magnus says. “Simon’s still a fledgeling, meaning Camille can put him in her thrall like _that_.” He snaps his fingers. “Let the others do their job.”

“But it’s my _mom_ ,” Clary argues. “How would you feel if—”

Magnus sighs and holds up a hand to interrupt her. “If you let me finish, I was just going to say that, luckily, we don’t need to be in the room to see what’s going on. Allow me.” He clasps his hands in front of him and starts incanting a spell. When he parts them again, a silvery cloud starts forming.

“It’s not HD quality, but for eavesdropping purposes, I think it’ll do just fine,” he says once he’s finishes. Another snap of his fingers and a purple spark turns the cloud into a silver disc, and images of the rest of their group appear, showing them filing into a room where several coffins are lined up, side by side.

 _“Guard the door,”_ they hear Raphael say, and several vampires get themselves into position. _”Don’t let anyone leave this room until the coffin is closed and secure again.”_ He turns to face the others. _“Everybody ready?”_

 _“Bring it on,”_ Izzy says. 

Raphael walks up to the coffin, puts a key in a padlock to release the chains around it, opens the lid and steps back. _“Rise and shine, Camille. You’ve got visitors.”_

“Nothing’s happening,” Clary says. “Why isn’t anything happening? She’s in there, isn’t she?”

“Maybe she’s asleep?” Simon suggests.

“Maybe she’s dead! Deader, I mean. Really dead.”

“Children,” Magnus says, making a show out of rolling his eyes. “Calm down. Camille always wants to make an entrance.”

As though she’s heard him, Camille chooses that moment to sit up in her coffin, stretching languorously and smiling. _“Well, hello there.”_

 _“The Shadowhunters want information,”_ Raphael says, straight to the point.

 _“Oh?”_ Camille says, raising an eyebrow. _“Well, we all want so many things. I, for one, could positively_ kill _for some fresh air right about now—Ragnor Fell! I haven’t seen you in an age! How have you been?”_

 _“Oh, you know, puttering about the lair, mostly,”_ Ragnor says. _“You’re looking decidedly less hedonistic than the last time I saw you.”_

 _“Well, you know Russian lovers,”_ Camille replies with a grin. _“So much passion, such rich blood that gets absolutely everywhere. Is that why Magnus didn’t come down with you? Is he still upset about that little dalliance?”_ She looks around the room at each of the people there in turn. _“I can smell the scent of his magic around the rest of you, you know.”_

“You know, it really wasn’t as bad as everyone is making it out to be,” Magnus says. “I wasn’t _that_ hung up on her.”

“You traded a _townhouse in London_ for a _necklace_ , just so you could give it to her,” Clary points out dryly.

Magnus huffs.

 _“Sorry to break it to you,”_ Isabelle says. _“But Magnus has definitely moved on.”_

Camille tilts her head, considering. _“Not with you, though, I don’t think,”_ she says. _“There’s a faint trace, but nothing like there would be if the two of you had been intimate. You, on the other hand,”_ she says, turning to Lydia with a wide grin. _“You positively_ reek _of him. And… of Ragnor as well! Now that’s interesting. Getting a little greedy, are we?”_

 _“Could we get back to the point?”_ Lydia asks, turning to Raphael. _“We’re wasting time here.”_

 _“Payment for your services has been negotiated on behalf of the Clan,”_ Raphael tells Camille. _“Your cooperation, as a blood-bound member of said Clan, has already been agreed on, so if you’ll just put a smile on your face and give these people what they’re looking for, we’ll all be on our merry way.”_

 _“That’s cute,”_ Camille replies, narrowing her eyes. _“But I don’t feel like playing.”_

Her fangs drop and she jumps into the air, aiming straight for Isabelle. Clary and Simon both scream, and Clary almost throws herself at the projection before she stops herself.

 _“Whoa, not so fast, my dear,”_ they hear Ragnor say, as a force field shimmers into place around Camille’s body, effectively stopping her in her tracks and making her rebound back into the coffin.

Camille turns to Ragnor, fangs out, and hisses. _“Let me go.”_

 _“Your freedom is not on the table,”_ Lydia says. _“The location of the_ Book of the White _, if you please.”_

_“The Book of the What?”_

_“Book of the White,”_ Izzy says. _“Big white spellbook of warlock magic; ring any bells?”_

_“Can’t say it does, sorry.”_

_“Joyelyn Fairchild would have placed it in your care. Maybe as far back as eighteen-nineteen years ago.”_

_“Never even met her,”_ Camille replies. _“I’ve been making the conscious decision to stay away from Circle members since they went crazy and started butchering us all.”_ She smiles sweetly at Izzy. _“No offense.”_

“Is there any way we can get information down to them?” Clary asks. “If she never met my mom, then it was probably Dot who gave her the book. Maybe even hid it among her possessions without Camille knowing.”

“One moment,” Magnus replies. “Anyone in here sired by Raphael?” he asks around the room. “Good, you over there, come here, please.”

A blond vampire steps forward, and Magnus motions him over to sit on the couch. “I would like to use your blood to send an important message which will help your Sire. Will you allow me to do that?”

“Raphael saved me from brain cancer,” the vampire replies. “I’ll help him in any way he needs.”

“Thank you,” Magnus says. “Now this might sting a bit.”

He calls on his magic and summons a scalpel from the nearest hospital. The vampire winces as the blade cuts into his skin, but keeps quiet and holds himself perfectly still as Magnus completes the spell.

“There,” Magnus says, “try it out. Call on Raphael with your mind.”

The vampire swallows and closes his eyes, clearly concentrating. A couple of seconds later, his eyes fly open in shock. “It’s working!”

“Tell him to ask Camille if she had any dealings with a warlock named Dot,” Magnus says. Through the projection, he sees Raphael grow very still, and then he looks at Camille and relays the question.

 _“Oh yes, Dot,”_ Camille replies. _“She’d sell me all sorts of pretty things.”_

 _“Good, now where would these exchanges take place?”_ Lydia asks.

_“My apartment, well, one of them. I have a little _pied à terre_ on the Upper East Side that I like to keep all to myself. Not even Raphael’s been there, so good luck finding it without me.”_

“Raphael is asking if you know where this apartment is,” the vampire says to Magnus.

Magnus shakes his head. “No, but I’ll bet you my last pair of fuzzy slippers it’s in a townhouse with a private underground parking space. Probably with the name of one of the great romantics on the lease—some things never change, and Camille does loves irony.”

The vampire nods, and they watch as Raphael relays the information to his group.

 _“It’s worth a shot,”_ Izzy says. _“I’ll call Luke, see if he can run a search from the police station.”_

“Wait!” Simon suddenly exclaims. “I think I know where it is!”

“What? How?” Clary asks.

“After she kidnapped me and the transformation started, I’d end up almost sleepwalking to weird places all around the city,” Simon says. “Most often, I came here, but there was this one other place. A white townhouse, right by Central Park. You could see the Metropolitan from the front steps.”

“Simon, you’re amazing!” Clary exclaims, throwing her arms around him. “You think you could find your way back?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I could,” Simon replies. “How will we get inside, though? I remember reaching out to try and open the door, and it burned me.”

“Probably a basic blood ward to stop other vampires from coming to call,” Magnus says. “Ragnor or I should be able to take care of that, no problem.”

“Raphael tells me they’re coming back up,” the vampire tells them. “He also says to thank you, Magnus, for opening this link.”

“No problem at all,” Magnus replies. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and when he picks it up, he sees that it’s Alec calling. “One second, I just need to take this.”

He walks out of the room and into an empty hallway, casting a quick silencing spell around himself to block out the enhanced hearing of nearby vampires. “Alexander, my darling, how’s the search going?”

“Can you meet me at your loft?” Alec asks, without preamble. His voice is tense, and his breath is coming out quick and ragged, as though Alec has just been in a major fight. “I need to see you. Right away.”

“Okay,” Magnus replies. “Alec, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Alec says. “It’s just—things went down, and Jace… I don’t—I need to see you.”

“I’ll be right there,” Magnus tells him. “It’ll be okay, Alec. Take a deep breath.”

“Don’t tell Izzy,” Alec says. “Make up some excuse, I don’t care, just—she’ll run right out after him, and I can’t let that happen, not with— _fuck_ , I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are you?” Magnus asks, and Alec rattles off an address down by the harbour. “Get to the New York Waterway. I’ll portal over and pick you up.”

“Okay,” Alec says shakily. “Luke and his wolves are out looking as well. Maybe the others can coordinate with them—they have Hodge, he’s hurt pretty badly and the Cup is missing. I— _nnggh!_ —fuck! I think I... need to sit down.”

“I’ll be _right there_ ,” Magnus promises, his heart beating fast with worry.

Alec ends the call, and Magnus puts his phone down into his pocket and takes a deep breath before pasting on a smile and going back into the other room. 

“I need to pop back to my place for supplies,” he says. “Now that we know where the book is, we should be able to wake Jocelyn up fairly quickly. Ragnor can handle the wards at Camille’s place, and help find the book. I’ll meet you back at the Institute shortly.”

“Okay,” Clary says, all focus on where they need to go next, just like Magnus hoped. “We’ll let the others know when they come back.”

“Do you need help?” Simon asks. “Gathering ingredients or so? I did a pretty good job with Jace last time.”

“Thank you, but no,” Magnus says. “Go with Clary and the others, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He inclines his head in goodbye to the vampires in the room and exits quickly, throwing up a portal as soon as he’s out of sight.


	6. Malec

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the longer than usual times between updates. Here's an entire chapter of just Alec and Magnus to compensate. :D Please enjoy!
> 
> As always, thanks to each and every one who keeps reading and commenting. Love you all! <3

Alec is slumped against a wall when Magnus finds him, breathing shallowly and clearly in pain. Magnus doesn’t waste any time on explanations, but simply opens a new portal and brings Alec through it with him back to the loft. Alec collapses on the couch, one hand clutching his hip, wincing as a new wave of pain flows through him.

“Move your hand, I need to see what we’re dealing with,” Magnus says, falling to his knees next to the couch, healing magic already starting to spark at the tips of his fingers.

“It’s the bond,” Alec manages, moving his hand and pulling up his shirt to reveal his _parabatai_ rune, red and angry-looking against his skin. “Jace is—” The rune flares up, glowing bright like fire for a second before fading again. “—he’s being a stupid noble asshole.” 

“In what way?” Magnus asks. He holds a up a hand over the rune and lets cooling and numbing magic flow into the skin. “Okay, that should hold off the worst of it.”

“Thank you,” Alec says, relief clear on his face as the magic starts to take effect.

“How does it feel? The bond, I mean.”

Alec closes his eyes and puts a hand back against the rune. “Weak,” he settles on. “Normally, if I focus on it, it feels like a steady hum. Warm. Solid. Right now it feels like it’s flickering.”

“Okay,” Magnus says, letting his magic flow over the rest of Alec’s body, checking for other signs of injury. “What happened with Jace?”

Alec winces. “We found Hodge. Or Jace did. We had spread out to cover more ground, the two of us and Luke and his pack. When Luke and I caught up… It was bad.”

“How bad?”

“Jace was standing over him with his blade raised. I swear to God, Magnus, it looked like he was going to kill him.”

“So you stopped him.”

“Well, yeah. But he was—I don’t know. Something’s been eating him, and I don’t know what it is. And it’s like he’s just… I tried to calm him down, but it’s was like he couldn’t hear anything that I was telling him. He told me—” Alec breaks off, swallowing hard. “—he said he’s going after Valentine on his own. That it’s his fault Valentine’s still alive, and that he’s the only one who can get close to him right now. He—” 

Alec chokes on whatever words come next. Magnus reaches forward immediately, taking Alec’s hand in his, and Alec squeezes it, hard enough that the bones in Magnus’ hands start protesting.

“He wants me to have the Clave exile him, to break our bond,” Alec manages at last. “So that it can’t be used against me while he’s undercover. I told him to go fuck himself.”

“Oh, Alec…”

“I’m not renouncing him!” Alec snaps. “He’s my _parabatai_.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you should,” Magnus says gently. “Now, why is the bond acting as though one of you are actively trying to sever it?”

“I don’t know,” Alec says helplessly. “He tried to leave, I stopped him, he punched me in the face, I threw his own stupid words back at him about not wanting to live if we were on different sides—dramatic, I know, but he was being _such a fucking dick_ —and then it kind of snowballed from there. _Fuck_.” Alec pulls his hand away from Magnus and gets to his feet.

“He left, and then managed to lose me among the freight containers,” he says. “And then it felt like something slashed right through my rune, and the pain started.” 

Magnus wracks his brain, but comes up empty. The only situation he can think of where he heard about a _parabatai_ rune exhibiting even close to the same behaviour as Alec is describing was from a Shadowhunter whose _parabatai_ got turned into a vampire. And that’s definitely not a piece of information that will help Alec focus at present.

His magic itches to reach in through Alec’s side of the bond and get more information—maybe even push a Seeing Spell through—but considering where Jace is supposedly headed, and not knowing what kind of magical firepower Valentine has on his side, Magnus is reluctant to risk opening a link that, by definition, goes both ways.

Alec sits down next to him again and carefully prods around his rune with his fingers. “The magic you did, to numb the pain, will it affect him in any way?”

“He should feel a shadow of it,” Magnus replies, then decides that—high risk or not—Alec at least needs to know the option exists. “I could go deeper though, if you wanted. Properly push the magic through the bond, maybe even see where he is.”

“What?” Alec looks up at him, clearly shocked. “But when Lydia and I tried to track him through it, it nearly killed Jace and me both! How could you channel warlock magic through it?”

“I believe that’s another one of the Clave’s well-kept secrets,” Magnus says, carefully. “They like to claim that the _parabatai_ bond is angelic in nature, but it’s not. It’s Seelie magic at the core, and the full power of it doesn’t manifest until both the angel and demon sides are present. Any spell through the bond will manifest on both sides of it, however, so using it for recon is risky.”

“So, like if a Shadowhunter would bond with a Downworlder?” Alec asks. “But that’s not _possible_. Is it?”

“It’s technically possible,” Magnus tells him, “but not something I would ever attempt. Bonds like that are extremely volatile, and people tend to go mad as a result. And then you have the whole problem with magically adapting a rune so it won’t kill the Downworlder in question. The only time I know of that it worked was with a pair of twins born to an interracial couple, where one was born a Shadowhunter and the other one a werewolf. That was more than a thousand years ago.”

Alec nods, processing this new information.

“There was a time when Downworlders and Shadowhunters did form a bond of sorts,” Magnus adds, mostly talking just to give Alec something else to focus on. “Or more of an alliance, really. They were called Triads, and were made from a _parabatai_ -bonded pair and a warlock, there to help channel the inherent magic of the bond. I was in one of the last ones formed before the rift between Shadowhunters and the Shadow World started getting worse. Henry Branwell and Sophia Herondale. We invented the portal together.”

Alec cracks a smile for the first time since they got back, and it’s silly, really, how something so small makes Magnus feel a thousand pounds lighter. “No wonder you and Lydia get on so well,” Alec says. “I don’t think it helps much in this situation, though. And not just because Jace would probably kick both of us in the balls if I as much as suggested that the three of us should form a Triad.”

“Especially considering your feelings for him,” Magnus adds, wanting to keep the conversation going. “The magical connection in a Triad thrives on the energy between the angel and demon sides, but in order to keep it balanced, the _parabatai_ bond needs to remain as platonic as possible—it’s actually one of the original reasons why the _parabatai_ bond is not allowed to be romantic. So you, me and Jace? A lot less sexy threesome and a lot more catastrophic magical side effects than you’d think, unfortunately.”

He means it as a joke, to lighten the mood a bit further; Jace has been a safe, if not entirely comfortable, subject between them since what Magnus fondly likes to call _The Night of a Hundred Cocktails_ in his head—so when Alec practically throws himself off the couch and stalks over to the bar, grabbing the nearest bottle and pouring its content into a glass, Magnus stops short in surprise and apprehension, and immediately tries to backtrack.

“Alexander, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Do you know how many times I laid awake at night, sick to my stomach because all I could think about was how in love with him I was?” Alec asks, a slight tremble in his voice. He brings the glass to his lips and takes a deep gulp, grimacing as he lowers it again. “I _loved_ him, and I _hated_ myself, because he’s my _parabatai_ and my _brother_ , and because, no matter what I did, I couldn’t make it stop.”

He takes another deep gulp, then one more. Magnus gets up and walks over to him, coming to a stop behind Alec, close enough to give off body heat, but careful not to actually touch him.

“Alexander, please listen to me. There’s not a single thing wrong with having those feelings. You love who you love. And it’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay,” Alec hisses, spinning around so that they’re face to face. “This—all of this—Jace has _left me_ and gone off to risk his life, going so far as to deliberately fucking with our bond to make sure I won’t follow, and I should be going crazy—I shouldn’t be able to think about anything except for how to find him, and instead—” He throws back what’s left in his glass, then turns around to refill it.

“And instead?” Magnus prompts gently.

Alec looks at him, a million conflicting emotions playing across his face.

“I called you,” Alec says, so quiet it’s barely more than a whisper. “Not Izzy, or Lydia or even fucking Clary. _I called you_. 

Magnus swallows, the implications of the words surging right through him, like an electrical current that sends prickles of energy all down his arms and makes his heart suddenly beat far too fast in his chest. He looks back at Alec, knowing that the sudden flood of emotions is bound to read on his face like an open book. Alec’s eyes widen and the next thing Magnus registers is the sound of glass breaking against the floor, as Alec pulls him in and lifts him right off the ground, dropping him roughly down on top of the bar and crashing their lips together.

* * *

_Crash!_

Another crystal decanter hits the ground, glass breaking and high-end liquor running all over the hardwood floors. The sound registers somewhere in the back of Magnus’ head—in a small part of his brain that’s still working on processing other things than Alec’s mouth on him, Alec’s hands, Alec’s body crowding him, enveloping him, pulling Magnus closer against him.

Somewhere to his side, there’s another crash—the good whisky, judging from the smell of it. Magnus couldn’t even begin to care.

Alec’s hands are at the front of his shirt, impatiently tugging at buttons until he’s got it open enough that he can reach down and pull it up over Magnus’ head. Magnus, in the meantime, manages to get half of Alec’s shirt open and off his shoulders in return, pushing the material down to get his mouth on Alec’s neck and chest.

It’s messy and desperate, and Magnus loves every second of it. Loves how Alec throws his head back and moans as Magnus grabs his waist and digs his fingers in, how his lips part in quiet gasps as Magnus starts exploring his chest with his mouth.

Alec can’t seem to stop touching him, hands roaming all over, as though he’s trying to commit every inch of Magnus’ body to memory. Magnus’ magic sings with it, surging up to meet every point of contact. He runs his hands down Alec’s spine, letting a fraction of it crest and spill from his fingers. Alec’s breath hitches on a sob, and his hands go to Magnus thighs, pulling them up to wrap around his waist.

Magnus is all too happy to oblige. Alec presses their hips together, making it blindingly obvious just how hard they both are. He ducks his head to draw Magnus’ attention and pull him in for another kiss, and the desire in each touch washes over Magnus like a wave—like Alec himself is a riptide, pulling him under and turning his body dizzy and unsure of what is even up and down anymore.

“How the fuck do I get these off?” Alec gasps against his mouth, and Magnus realises with another surge of heat that Alec’s hands have moved down to his pants and are struggling to tug open his zipper.

He presses himself even closer, effectively trapping Alec’s hands between their bodies. Then he moves his hips, and Alec groans, dropping his face against Magnus’ neck.

“Magnus, _please,_ ” Alec begs, even as he starts to try and move his fingers, twisting his hand around so that Magnus can thrust properly against it. “A little help here?”

Magnus tries to compose himself, pulling away from their kiss and resting his forehead against Alec’s shoulder as he tries to get his brain to pull together enough to figure out a spell to use. 

Alec must mistake his pause for hesitation, because he stiffens and pulls back almost immediately—his hips, meanwhile, seem wholly unable to stop their stuttering pushes, which is doing nothing to help Magnus from feeling like he’s going to come in his pants any second now.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Alec murmurs, detaching his hands from their torturous position at Magnus’ crotch to come up and stroke over his chest and neck. “If you don’t want to, we can—”

Magnus grabs the back of his head and pulls him in for a desperate kiss. “Alexander,” he manages, once they break apart for air, “there’s not a single thing in this _world_ I want more than you inside of me right now.”

He tilts Alec’s face down towards him as he speaks, making sure that Alec can read the truth of his words in his eyes. Alec pulls in a sharp breath, and when Magnus runs his hands down along his sides to Alec’s ass, Alec’s whole body trembles.

Oh yes, this is definitely happening.

“Pick me up,” Magnus tells him quietly, wrapping his arms and legs tighter around Alec’s body. “You know where my bedroom is.”

Alec moans and catches his lips in another kiss. He grabs Magnus’ thighs and lifts him up off the bar, stumbling on the first couple of steps before he finds his centre. Magnus gives him no quarter, picking up right where they left off and moving his hard cock against Alec’s in a sinuous figure eight. Alec hisses and stumbles again, one of his hands coming up to pinch Magnus at the waist.

“Stop doing that; we’ll end up on the floor.”

“Oh, but the floor can be _such_ a marvellous place,” Magnus replies, tracing his lips along the line of Alec’s ear and biting down gently. “Just imagine, I could push you down and ride you, making you come apart underneath me while grinding down on your—”

“Oh Gods, stop talking,” Alec gasps, shutting Magnus up effectively by pressing him into the nearest wall and kissing him until they’ve both lost what little composure they had left. Magnus feels his magic swell and break out of his skin, and the next thing he knows, they’re lying completely naked together on the rug half-way between his bedroom door and the actual bed, and Alec is sliding on top of him, grinding their hips together desperately.

“Oh fuck,” Alec pants, just as Magnus reaches down and gets a hand around both of them. “Magnus, _fuck_ , I’m so close, I can’t—”

Magnus moves his hand faster, revelling in the feel of Alec’s hard cock moving hotly against his own. He catches Alec’s mouth in a deep kiss as Alec starts to shake apart on top of him; warm come splatters over his hand and over both their stomachs, and Magnus feels like he’s about to crest and break out of his skin, his impending orgasm mixing with his magic to the point where he’s helplessly riding out the aftershocks with Alec, completely overwhelmed.

He must be looking truly desperate, because as soon as Alec starts to come back to himself, he takes one look at Magnus and rolls them over to their sides, one hand moving down to grip Magnus’ weeping cock, while the other one makes its way into Magnus’ hair, caressing his scalp and bringing their mouths back together.

Magnus gasps into the kiss and lets himself go, allowing his magic to break free and wash over both of them while thrusting manically into Alec’s hand. He’s dimly aware of Alec crying out as well when the pleasure finally breaks and pulls him under—is probably forging a connection and pouring his orgasm into Alec’s body and mind without fully meaning to—unable to focus on anything other than how insanely, mind-meltingly _good_ everything feels.

They come back down slowly, breathing heavily and wrapped up in each other like neither can get close enough. The floor feels harder than it did just minutes ago, and Magnus gathers what little focus he has left, waving his hand to levitate them up onto the bed instead.

The soft pillows feel like heaven; Magnus lets out a soft moan and rubs his overheated cheek against the cool satin.

With great difficulty, he gathers the will to open his eyes, turning to look at Alec. “Oh, darling, you _really_ know how to make a first impression.”

Alec ducks his head, and Magnus can see the start of a pleased smile on his face, and tell that the flush on his face is growing yet a little deeper. Alec puts his face against Magnus’ throat and breathes in deeply, his arms and legs tightening their grip. “I can barely feel my legs,” he murmurs. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Magnus agrees softly, raising a hand to stroke the back of his fingers across Alec’s cheek. “That definitely was.”

Alec kisses him again, and Magnus can feel everything he isn’t saying out loud in that one kiss—the almost paralysing desire that goes far beyond what Magnus’ body just gave him. He wraps his arm tightly around Alec’s waist and shifts closer, breaking the kiss to put his face in the crook of Alec’s neck and just breathe him in, trying to keep reality at bay for a moment longer.

“I’m glad this happened,” Alec says quietly, some minutes later, taking Magnus’ hand in his and scooting back a little so they’re facing each other properly. “Even in the middle of all of this madness—or maybe exactly because of it.” He brings their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ knuckles. “I thought I was doing the right thing before, but that wasn’t it. This is. I think I already knew that, even as I picked up the phone to call you.”

Magnus closes his eyes, feeling suddenly overcome with emotion. Alec presses a soft kiss to the base of his thumb. “Hey, you okay?”

Magnus swallows and manages to nod. “Fine. It’s just—it’s been a while, is all. Since being with someone meant this much. I’m—my heart is a bit out of shape, it seems.” He opens his eyes and meets Alec’s gaze, breathing deeply as the chaos of emotion continues to swirl inside him. Then he squeezes Alec’s hand, brings it to his lips for a kiss of his own. “I’m glad this happened too. You never cease to surprise me.”

Alec smiles, but Magnus can see that the high is starting to wear off for him as well, Alec’s rational mind coming back online and, no doubt, reminding him of all the reasons why they’ll have to get out of Magnus’ bed, sooner, rather than later.

“I’ve no idea what happens now,” Alec admits. “I don’t want you to think that this wasn’t—that it didn’t—” He breaks off, closing his eyes and seemingly looking for words. Magnus waits.

“Do you want to go out for that drink?” Alec asks, finally. “Once we’re not in the middle of a looming apocalypse and everything isn’t falling apart around us. Do you want to officially go on a date with me and spend an entire day—I don’t know—crashing lectures on classical poetry at the NYU or something?”

Magnus feels happiness surge up like a desperate ache in his chest. His heart is definitely out of practice. “I would love that.” 

Alec’s smile lights up his entire face, and Magnus lets himself be pulled into yet another kiss, clinging stubbornly to the simplicity and easy joy for another moment.

“While the apocalypse is still looming, however,” he says reluctantly, pulling away, “we should probably get up. Get back to the Institute and join up with the others.”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees with a sigh. “I need to talk to Izzy, see what she thinks we should do about Jace. And then I—Lydia. I owe it to her to make sure calling off the wedding goes as smoothly as possible.”

Magnus nods. They get dressed in relative silence, Alec muttering a bit over a missing button on his shirt while Magnus sweeps his hands through the air, restoring the living room to its original state.

“Ready?” he asks Alec, once he’s magicked his hair back to looking somewhat respectable. 

Alec nods and walks up to him, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go.”

Magnus takes a slow breath, focuses his magic, and the portal shimmers into place.


	7. The End, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I clearly suck at keeping things brief. XDDDD  
> My beta when I started working on this chapter: "You'll never make it, it's going to end up being two parts."  
> Me: "Nooooo! I can do it! It's just a massive bit of plot and some Malec cuteness. Totally doable in 3K words. 4K, max!"  
> Me: *7K words later and still counting* Well, fuck.
> 
> XDDDD
> 
> So! Last chapter in 2 parts. Good news is that part 2 is almost finished as well, so should be up shortly!
> 
> As always, HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who is following and who keeps leaving feedback on this story. Lots and lots of hearts for all of you. <3333333

Isabelle is the first person to greet them as they get inside the Institute, hurrying up to Alec and wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Luke told us what happened with Hodge,” she says. “Are you okay? Where’s Jace?”

Alec puts a hand at the small of her back and ushers her towards an empty hallway, while indicating for Magnus to follow them. “Not here. Where is everyone else?”

“Mom and dad are in the Command Centre with Lydia,” Izzy replies. “Last I saw, mom was shouting and Lydia was doing her fiercely calm thing. Clary and Simon are with Jocelyn, and Luke is there as well. Ragnor is working on the book, trying to find the spell that will wake her up.”

“Oh,” Alec says, and Magnus suppresses a smile at the fact that he’s clearly not the only one who’s still pulling his head back together. “You found it. Awesome. Okay, then we’ll—” Alec breaks off, and Magnus follows his eyes to Izzy, who’s stopped walking and is looking between the two of them, a knowing smile spreading across her lips.

Magnus does his best to keep a straight face. Next to him, he can tell that Alec is doing the same—though not very successfully, since Magnus can practically feel him straighten up and steel himself.

“You guys totally just had sex.”

Alec groans and drops his head. Isabelle’s smile widens. “I knew it!”

“Lower your voice,” Alec urges, looking around. “You don’t have to tell the entire Institute.”

“Hey, I’m not judging you,” Izzy says, aiming a brilliant smile at Magnus as well. “Okay, maybe a little bit on the timing. But, oh my God, Alec, I am so, so happy for you. Both of you.”

Alec’s face splits into a soft, happy smile, if still a bit uncertain. Magnus takes a step closer to him and slides a hand around Alec’s waist. 

“Thank you, Isabelle, that means a lot,” he says, taking the opportunity to tilt his head and lean it against Alec’s shoulder for a moment. “We have some less pleasant things to discuss, though. So if we could find somewhere private?”

“Sure,” Izzy says, pulling her smile back until her face is all business. “Just the three of us, or who else do we need?”

Magnus looks at Alec for confirmation and sees calm determination in Alec’s eyes.

“We need Lydia,” Alec tells her. “She deserves to know exactly what’s going on. And—” he hesitates for a moment, “Clary should come too,” he continues. “She’s family, after all.” 

Magnus sees worry strike across Izzy’s face. “ _Jace_. Alec, is he alright? Please, is he—”

“He’s fine,” Alec interrupts her. “Or as fine as he can be. He’s gone after Valentine. Wants me to have the Clave exile him so he can go properly undercover.”

“What?!”

“I _know_ ,” Alec says. “I tried to stop him, but he got away from me.”

Isabelle lets out a long string of colourful expletives. Magnus is impressed by the range of her vocabulary.

“When he gets back, I’m going to kick his ass so badly, he won’t even hobble,” Izzy says. “He’ll crawl. Like a snail. Slowly and extremely painfully.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alec replies. “Go get Clary and Lydia and meet us in the back training room, will you?”

Izzy rolls her eyes and walks off, leaving Magnus and Alec alone in the hallway. Alec turns and starts walking in the opposite direction, motioning for Magnus to follow his lead.

* * *

“What’s the vampire doing here?”

“Seriously?” Simon says, clearly hurt, at the same time as Clary says, “Isabelle said family. He’s mine.”

“Yeah, but not ours,” Alec says, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry, but what we need to talk about is highly sensitive and should be kept to as few people as possible.”

Clary raises her chin and stares him right in the eye. “I’m just going to tell him afterwards anyway. He helped us find the _Book of the White_. He’s earned his place.”

“Sorry, Alec,” Isabelle says, not sounding all that sorry. “I told them you wouldn’t like it, but you know how newly turned mundanes are.”

“Yeah, thanks Izzy,” Alec replies sarcastically. Then his face turns serious again, “I really don’t think he should be here, though, I’m sorry.”

“If he goes, I go,” Clary says.

“Fine, then you’ll go too,” Alec snaps. “Anyone else who wants to leave the room while we’re at it?”

“Alec, come on,” Isabelle tries. “Simon, I’m sorry he’s being such a stick in the mud, but it’s about Jace. Could you please wait outside?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Simon replies, then wraps Clary in a quick hug. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay?”

Clary nods and lets him leave; as soon as the door has closed, she turns back to Alec, worry written all over her face. “Is Jace okay?”

Alec retells the story of what happened down at the docks, and Magnus watches with concern as Clary’s distress builds. When Alec gets to the part where Jace told him he was going after Valentine and then managed to escape, Clary’s breath hitches audibly in her throat.

“We have to stop him! He can’t go after Valentine on his own—he’ll get killed!”

“Going after him will put him in even more danger,” Alec argues. “If we can even find him, that is.”

“I don’t care,” Clary exclaims. “Use your _parabatai_ tracking mojo or something. I know you did it before, when we were in the alternate dimension.”

“I’m not sure we can,” Magnus cuts in, before Alec has a chance to blow up at Clary. “Jace did something to his and Alec’s bond as he left. I’m not sure what, but the effects of it definitely worry me.”

“Wait,” Isabelle says. “You didn’t tell me that. Alec, what’s wrong with the bond?”

“I don’t know,” Alec tells her honestly. “He did something to it, and it started hurting like hell. Magnus removed the pain, but it still feels… off, somehow.”

“Is he trying to make it so that you can’t track him, do you think?” Lydia asks. She walks up to Alec and looks at him for permission before reaching down and lifting the edge of his shirt, baring the rune. 

Alec hisses when Lydia carefully runs her finger over it, and Magnus feels himself mirror the worry he sees rising in Lydia’s face. The rune is still glowing dully, and there’s something definitely wrong with the energy coming from it.

“Can you run a diagnostic?” Lydia asks, turning directly to Magnus. “Would your magic work for that?”

“Of course,” Magnus replies. “What worries me is what we’ll get on the other side if I try to open a connection. If Valentine has managed to get hold of a warlock, we’ll give him direct access to Alec that way.”

“So we’ll need to be careful,” Lydia states. “Would it help if we limited Alec’s sensory input?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Magnus says. He looks around the room at the others, and then turns to Alec. “Do you want to do this?”

“Do whatever you need to do,” Alec replies. “What can I do to help?”

“Close your eyes and clear your mind,” Magnus instructs him. “Deep breaths, darling, this might sting a little.”

He holds out his left hand for Alec to take and puts his right one on top of the rune, trying to keep the flow of magic as slow and unobtrusive as possible, inching his way towards the centre of it. Something is definitely off, and the deeper Magnus goes, the more bewildered he gets. He can tell almost right away that the bond is imbalanced, and heavily so, but as he starts nearing Jace’s side of it, the magical signature becomes… _more_ , somehow. It’s not different than Alec’s, exactly, but the… proportions of it feels off. He can sense the angel signature clearly, but the human part is a lot weaker than it should be. 

Before he has a chance to delve deeper, it all comes to a stop, like something or someone has drawn a big X on the path Magnus is following, effectively stopping him from going further. He feels it out with his magic but gets no effect at all; after a few more tries, he pulls himself back.

“What did you see?” Alec asks right away. His breaths are coming out sharp and uneven, and he’s holding on to Magnus’ hand almost painfully tight. Magnus sends a wave of cooling magic against the rune in silent apology.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he says. “I don’t know what Jace has done to it, but the bond is blocked, not to mention highly volatile.”

“Volatile how?” Izzy asks immediately. “Are you saying it’s dangerous?”

“A _parabatai_ bond is always dangerous,” Magnus replies. “You’re effectively tying two supernatural souls together. Things are bound to get a little messy.”

“Magnus,” Alec says quietly, waiting until Magnus turns and looks him in the eye, “Just tell me. Please.”

Magnus nods and tries to figure out how best to start. He turns back to the others. 

“Would you give us a moment, please?” he asks, and, when they nod, he waves his hand and puts up a simple privacy spell around himself and Alec, shielding them from the others’ eyes and ears. Then he reaches for Alec’s other hand as well, pulling them a little closer together.

“Alec, your bond is tilted. I don’t know why, but it’s overbalancing towards Jace’s side, and that’s putting incredible strain on it. And whatever Jace did to it to shut you out did not help; it’s hanging on by a thread, quite literally.”

“You’re saying it might break?” Alec asks, a tinge of panic in his voice. “What happens if it does?”

“Alexander,” Magnus says gently. “You know what happens if a _parabatai_ bond breaks on its own.”

Alecs takes a deep, shuddering breath and looks away for a moment. When he turns back again, the expression in his eyes makes Magnus’ heart ache.

“Is it—was it me?” Alec asks quietly. “Did I screw it up? Did my feelings for him make it—” He breaks off, biting down hard on his lower lip.

Magnus doesn’t know how to answer him. Truth is, he has no idea, and while he doesn’t think it’s a likely explanation, he can’t come up with anything better either. He tells Alec as much, and then pulls him into a tight hug, letting Alec work himself through his grief with as much privacy as possible.

“Alright,” Alec says when he finally pulls back. “I guess that’s that. Jace will get his way once again. By the angel, he’ll be insufferable when he gets back. I might have to exile him all over again just to get a break from his smirking face.”

The joke falls flat, and the chuckle Alec attempts turns into a choked off sob instead. Magnus pulls him back in, trying to communicate everything he can’t say by pressing his forehead to Alec’s and placing a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you ready to tell the others?” he asks, once Alec starts to calm down a bit. “I think it’s best that they hear it from you. Especially Isabelle.”

“Yeah,” Alec says. “No point in waiting.”

Magnus lifts the spell, and the others are immediately upon them. Including Simon, who has clearly managed to sneak back in again and is holding on tightly to Clary’s hand. Clary’s makeup is running down her cheeks, and both Isabelle and Lydia look very grim. Isabelle must have filled them in on the exile part of the story.

“Alec, you can’t let the Clave exile Jace,” Clary begs. “Lydia told me what happens if he’s outside of their protection. His runes will lose some of their power and demons will flock to him like a beacon. He’ll get himself killed. Alec, please!”

Alec pulls in a shaky breath and drops his head in his hands for a couple of seconds. Then he straightens up again. Magnus sees him swallow hard.

“Our bond is already breaking,” he tells the others. “And if that happens on its own, chances are high neither Jace or I will survive it. He asked me to have him exiled, so I’m guessing he has a plan. I sure as fuck hope he does, at least.”

He looks as Izzy, who is furiously wiping at the corner of her eyes. “Iz, what do you think?”

“I think Jace is an idiot, and I’ll never forgive him for going off without us like this,” Izzy replies. “Apart from that, I don’t see what other choice we have.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Alec admits. “He’s my _parabatai_. How can I possibly do this?”

“We’ll do it because we have to,” Isabelle says. “We’re Lightwoods, remember? We break noses and accept the consequences.”

“You know, I’m starting to really hate that motto,” Alec replies. Isabelle nods and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder.

* * *

They start hashing out the practicalities of setting the plan into motion, which—as far as Magnus can tell—mostly consists of Alec, Isabelle and Lydia deciding exactly what the official story should be, as far as the Clave is concerned, while Clary questions their points and tries to argue with them over every single detail.

Magnus gives up on it half-way through and busies himself with summoning coffee and pastries from one of his favourite bakeries in Brooklyn. He walks over to Simon—who’s been relegated to the sidelines, once again—and hands him a bearclaw in commiseration. Simon lights up as though Magnus just handed him a handful of rubies; Magnus can’t help but smile.

He walks over to the Shadowhunters next, putting cups and snacks directly into their hands, rather demonstratively. It breaks up the argument, at least, and both Alec and Lydia give Magnus and Simon an apologetic look before biting into their pastries.

“Short break?” Magnus suggests. “And I don’t think you need to be all that nitty-gritty with the details, really. The Clave is prejudiced as it is; convincing them that Valentine’s son has left to join him won’t be all that hard.”

“See! That’s exactly what I said!” Isabelle exclaims. “We all know what the Clave is like—no offense, Lydia.”

“None taken,” Lydia says pleasantly. “Speaking of, though—Alec, can I talk to you for a second?”

She puts a hand on Alec’s elbow and guides him over to the far side of the room. 

“I think we should call off our engagement,” Magnus hears her tell Alec, not quite quietly enough for the rest of them not to overhear. Next to Magnus, Simon is suddenly pretending to be extremely interested in his coffee. “I knew this was a political choice for both of us, and I completely understand why you made it, but from where I’m standing, things seems to have developed since then?”

Alec looks over at Magnus briefly and then back to Lydia, straightening himself. “Yeah, they have. Lydia, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She reaches out and puts a hand at the side of Alec’s face. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I was going to tell you, I promise,” Alec says. “Today, in fact.”

“Well, next time, don’t be such a slowpoke,” Lydia replies, and Alec smiles back softly at her. 

It’s really a shame about the Clave’s anal rules about Institute leadership, Magnus thinks; Alec and Lydia would have been great Heads together.

“I’d really like it if you wanted to stick around,” Alec says. “I don’t know who the Clave will appoint as Head or what kind of position I’ll still have, but I very much like working with you.”

“We make a good team,” Lydia agrees. She touches her elbow to Alec’s arm. “Guess it’s better we figured this out now than one of us ending up getting cold feet at the altar, though, huh?”

“Or after everyone started nagging us to have kids,” Alec says. “I don’t know, maybe we still would have had them. I think I would have really loved that.”

Lydia’s expression turns both sad and a little wistful. She reaches out and takes Alec’s hand in hers, and together, they stand in silence for a moment, before Lydia gives Alec’s hand a pat and walks over to Isabelle and Clary.

“It really sucks that Alec and Lydia aren’t bonded,” Simon says to no one in particular. “I mean, that would have been the perfect solution, right? Since the bond needs to be kept platonic anyway?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, definitely,” Isabelle replies. “A _parabatai_ bond must be formed before the age of nineteen, though, so even if Alec wasn’t already bonded to Jace, they’re both too old.”

“Actually…” Magnus says, a prickle of an idea starting to form at the back of his mind. Oh, he could _kiss_ the endearing little vampire!

“Actually… what?” Isabelle asks. “It’s impossible, isn’t it?”

“Oh, ‘impossible’ is _such_ a strong word,” Magnus says, reaching for memories buried deep down in the hidden corners of his mind. “In a way, you’re right. A new bond must be formed before nineteen. A broken bond, however, can be magically transferred.”

Stunned silence fills the room.

“You mean—” Lydia starts, and then looks at Alec, eyes wide.

“It’s a life-long bond,” Alec protests weakly, clearly overwhelmed.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, darling, but so is marriage,” Magnus says, smiling now.

“If we did this—”

“We wouldn’t be allowed to marry,” Lydia says. “But we _could_ co-head the Institute. The _parabatai_ bond is a warrior bond, and now that he has the Cup, Valentine is going to be gearing up for war. Having heads who are bonded rather than just married would be a huge advantage for the Clave.”

“Not to mention that there are all kinds of magic that can be channeled through a bonded pair to the people they’re responsible for,” Magnus adds. “Which in your case would be every Shadowhunter who reports to the New York Institute. All you’d need is an alliance with a warlock, and I have it on good authority that the High Warlock around these parts would be highly amenable to that idea.”

Alec meets his eyes, and Magnus sees a sort of reckless hope in there. At the same time, Alec looks more apprehensive than Magnus has ever seen him, and that’s enough to give him pause.

“Hey, we don’t need to make a decision right now,” he tells Alec. “Soon, yes, but not right this minute. As you said, it’s a life-long bond,” He turns towards Lydia and motions for her to come closer, “we should all take at least a few hours to make a decision.”

Lydia nods and opens her mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. 

“I’m sorry to cut in,” Ragnor says. “But I’ve got someone here who’d love to meet you all.”

He steps aside, and Jocelyn walks into the room. Clary lets out a happy cry and throws herself into her mother’s arms.

“Mom! Oh God, I’ve missed you so much!”

Jocelyn hugs her back, just as hard, then pulls back and looks at Clary worriedly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about your past.”

“No, not now,” Clary says, laughing in relief even as her tears keep running. “I’ve had enough for one day. Right now, I just really need my mom.”

They wrap their arms around each other again, whispering things to each other that are too quiet for Magnus to make out. 

“Hi, Mrs Fray,” Simon says, coming up and hugging both her and Clary from the side. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Simon!” Jocelyn says, pulling him into a hug as well. “I’m so glad to see you. Except… _how_ are you in here, exactly?”

“Simon’s a vampire now,” Clary tells her. “It’s a long story. Part of the very long day I really don’t want to talk about, actually. Can we go do something normal? Coffee?” She turns and looks at Izzy and Alec. “We can go outside for a bit and have coffee, right? It’d be safe enough?”

“Here, allow me,” Magnus says, making a sweeping movement with his hands. “There, all glamoured up, the three of you. Have a great time.”

“Thank you, Magnus,” Clary says. “We’ll be back before you know it. Oh, _mom_ , there’s so much I need to tell you...”

Jocelyn, Clary and Simon leave the room. Magnus shakes his head fondly and turns his attention to Ragnor. “Thank you for waking her up, my friend.”

“I figured you had other things on you mind,” Ragnor replies. “Speaking of, is everything all right in here?”

“Starting to be,” Magnus replies. “Let’s get out of the Institute for a bit, shall we? The Shadowhunters need some time to themselves, and we have more than a century of each other’s lives to catch up on.”

“Lead the way,” Ragnor says. “You might want to tell a certain someone where we’re going first, though.” He looks over at Alec, meaningfully, then steps close enough to Magnus to speak quietly into his ear, “I’m happy for you, Magnus. That boy adores you, it’s clear as day.”

Magnus tries and fails to suppress a smile. He walks over to Alec, feeling his heart flutter at the look in Alec’s eyes when he draws close.

“I’ll see you in a bit, darling,” he says, and then, in a moment of daring, leans in and presses a warm kiss to Alec’s lips, right in front of everyone.

He sees Alec swallow and then lick his lips when he draws back. It takes everything Magnus has not to reach out and pull him back in.

“Don’t be long,” Alec says. “I, um. I’ll go to the library for a bit, I think. To think, I mean. I’ll see you later?”

Magnus smiles and winks at him over his shoulder as he walks away.


	8. The End, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeees, I finally made it! The planned smutty two-parter that grew into a plotty monster is finally complete! The plot dragon has been slain! Glory be to the house of coffee and my two tireless and amazing betas. <333
> 
> I want to thank each and every person who have followed along with this fic. You've made writing this such a great experience and each and every comment and kudos has truly made my day. *throws lots and lots of kisses*

After a nice, nostalgic dinner at one of Magnus’ favourite restaurants in the Village, he and Ragnor make it back to the Institute shortly before 10pm.

“I think I’ll let you take things from here,” Ragnor says, once they’re standing in front of the entrance. “I’ve done what I can, and with Valentine possibly creating rogue Shadowhunters as we speak, we need to bring the warlocks together and start working on security measures.”

“Yeah, I know,” Magnus replies with a sigh. “Where will you go first? To Tessa or to Catarina?”

“Catarina, I think,” Ragnor says. “We’ll contact the others from there. We’ll need a stronghold, preferably something new, and something that can be moved between dimensions easily, if need be.”

“Good thinking. I’ll come join you as soon as I can, I promise. I just need to get things in order here, and then do the wards for Raphael, and—”

Ragnor cuts him off by putting a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, my friend,” he says. “I know you have a tendency to put the entire world on your shoulders, but I’m telling you don’t have to right now. I’ve been hiding for long enough; I’ll take care of your people here in New York for as long as you need.”

Magnus looks at him, feeling suddenly choked up. He pulls Ragnor into a hug, letting his magic join with Ragnor’s for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be sorry to miss your ceremony,” Ragnor says, when they pull back. “Maybe there’ll be another one in the near future, though? One with more champagne and opportunities to tell extremely embarrassing stories about your life?”

“Or maybe you’ll finally stop being such a recluse and go on a date,” Magnus counters, grinning. “Stones and glass houses, Ragnor.”

“Oh, very _well_ ,” Ragnor replies with a huff; then he grows serious again. “Take care of yourself, my friend.”

“I will,” Magnus promises. “Give my love to the others.”

He holds up his palm and lets a wisp of blue smoke rise from it, flicking his fingers to send it towards Ragnor, who catches it and forms it into an orb. Magnus watches as Ragnor turns and snaps open a portal, raising his hand in goodbye.

* * *

Alexander is in the library when Magnus gets inside the Institute. He’s sitting together with Lydia and Isabelle at a small reading table, talking quietly.

“Should I come back later?” Magnus asks, as the three of them look up at him. “I don’t mind, if you still have things to discuss?”

“No, we’re done, I think,” Isabelle replies. “Alec and Lydia have decided to go through with transferring the bond. Now we’re just discussing how best to tell our parents.”

“Ah,” Magnus says. “Well, that should in no way be horrifically awkward.”

“More like potentially homicidal,” Izzy replies. She turns to Alec and Lydia. “I’ll go find them and bring them back here. At least there are no weapons readily available in this room.”

She leaves, and Magnus walks over to Alec and Lydia, taking the chair that Isabelle just vacated.

“So,” he says. “We’re doing this?”

“Lydia and I are, but we both want to make it clear that you don’t have to complete the Triad,” Alec says. “With how everything is, and the general rift between the Clave and the Shadow World, we’d totally understand if you wanted to keep yourself separate. It wouldn’t be fair of us to just expect a commitment like that from you.”

Magnus smiles to himself and then looks at Alec and Lydia in turn and holds out his hands. “Here, let me show you something.”

Lydia and Alec share a look, and then reach forward simultaneously, taking either of Magnus’ hands.

“The two of you as well,” Magnus instructs, and Lydia and Alec reach for each other to complete the circle. “Now close your eyes, clear your minds and let the memories flow through you like you’re simply breathing them in.”

He reaches out with his magic and starts with a simple one, just him and Sophia having breakfast on Sophia’s balcony in Idris, while Henry sits next to them, doing paperwork.

 _“I’ll be riveted once you’re back on active duty,”_ the memory of Henry is telling Sophia. _“They have me working with Gabriel, and he and Magnus are simply painful around each other. Honestly, Magnus, will you please give in and accept his attentions?_ I’m _perishing from unrequited love here, simply by association.”_

 _“You poor thing,”_ Sophia says. _“Are you quite sure you’re not simply looking to have Magnus’ attention fixed on yourself?”_

 _“As grand as that would be, I’m sadly still exclusively enraptured by the fairer sex,”_ Henry replies easily, clearly used to having the same discussion.

 _“And I keep telling you, your life is all the poorer for it,”_ Sophia replies, winking at Magnus.

Magnus smiles to himself as the memory version of him winks back at Sophia and they both start laughing, while Henry rolls his eyes at them. He brings out another memory of the three of them in battle, letting Alec and Lydia experience the way his magic would flow through the bond, allowing Sophia and Henry to jump ten feet into the air, seraph blades moving in unison into the throat of a demon.

He hesitates after that, but finally decides to go ahead and lay all cards on the table. The memory he brings in is one of his most cherished ones: Henry passed out on the bed in Sophia’s bedroom and Magnus walking back and forth next to it, rocking a tiny bundle in his arms.

He lets the memory of quiet joy seep into Alec and Lydia and then withdraws the spell. Alec looks at him with wide eyes while Lydia keeps her head down, trying to control her breathing.

“You had a child,” Alec says, astonishment clear in his voice.

“Sophia and her partner had a child,” Magnus corrects him, still smiling at the memory. “But Henry and I helped raise her, yes.”

“But… _how?_ ” Alec asks. “A Shadowhunter child isn’t allowed any contact with Downworlders until they go on their first mission.”

“It was a different time,” Magnus replies. “And it might make me a fool, but I’m rather hoping what the three of us can create to be a first step back towards that. So regarding your offer, I appreciate it, but I one hundred percent want in on this.”

“Okay,” Alec says, and the smile he sends Magnus is nothing less than radiant.

“Lydia, are you sure you’re alright?” Magnus asks, tearing his attention away from Alec’s mouth and feeling a sting of worry at Lydia’s still bowed head and the clear tension in her shoulders.

“Yeah,” Lydia says, looking up with suspiciously shiny eyes, even though the smile on her face is bright enough. “Just, like you said. Memories of a different time. I’ll be fine. Let’s get the talk with the Lightwoods over with and then you and me, Alec, can contact the Clave to make arrangements?”

She’s still holding onto Alec’s hand, Magnus observes. He takes that as a good sign.

“Sure thing,” Alec tells her. “We’ll get through this, okay? I have your back.”

“I know you do,” Lydia replies. “Now let’s get this day over with so we can all finally go to bed.”

* * *

“Absolutely not!” Maryse Lightwood says. She turns from Alec to Isabelle with a furious look on her face. “Jace is a member of this family. How you can even _think_ of suggesting such a thing—have you completely lost your minds?”

“It’s the best course of action right now,” Alec replies evenly, his arms crossed over his chest. “And the exile was Jace’s idea—believe me, I’m far from thrilled about it. But the decision has been made.”

“Oh, I can tell just what kind of _decision_ you’ve made,” Maryse practically spits. “I have to give it to you, Magnus, you must have a great many talents for Alec to lose his head over you so completely.”

Several people start shouting at once, and Isabelle practically growls as she throws herself towards her mother. 

Magnus flicks his wrist, stopping all of them in their tracks.

“What I think you _mean_ to say is that Alec has made an important alliance today,” he says coldly, curling his fingers and decreasing the oxygen supply in the air around Maryse with his magic—just enough that he sees a flicker of fear in her eyes before he lets the air back into her lungs. “One that will make him, and by extension your family, more powerful than you could have ever dreamed of. He’s to be bonded to one of the most influential families in the Clave, and with an alliance to a High Warlock to boot. His name will be legend, and I intend to stand right by his side as it happens. Question is, are you willing to do the same?” 

Maryse looks like she’s two seconds away from spitting him right in the face. Magnus turns his back to her and walks back over to Alec, holding out an arm and suppressing any outward sign of the relief he feels when Alec moves into his touch without hesitation.

“You can think what you want; I don’t need your blessing let alone your permission,” Alec tells his mother. “Lydia and I are acting heads of the Institute, and when we bond, our positions will be formalised. Magnus is a High Warlock—if you want to get technical with the details, he outranks all of us.”

“He’s a _Downworlder_ ,” Maryse spits. “There’s a reason Triads no longer exist—they’re an abomination, and everyone with a bit of decency knows it.” 

Alec’s face hardens. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he says. “But I’m not going to stand here and listen to you spew ignorant hate around you. I’d say don’t bother coming to the ceremony, but we both know appearances must be kept, don’t we?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Maryse throws back. “Not only do you want to break off your engagement, but you intend to throw your own brother to the wolves as well. Our whole family was exiled when you were a child, Alec! We barely survived until the Clave let us come back in, and now you want to submit Jace to that same fate? All for the likes of _him_.” She looks over at Magnus with the utmost contempt before turning her attention back on Alec. “I don’t even recognise you anymore.”

“If you think having to exile Jace doesn’t completely break my heart, then you never knew me to begin with,” Alec says. “I’m doing this for _him_ , because he asked me to, and because it’s the only way I have to keep him a little safer right now. But you can’t see that, so I need to go… not be here. Izzy, could you—?”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Izzy assures him. “Go take a moment.”

Alec nods, and then—rather demonstratively—leans in and presses a kiss to Magnus’ temple. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he murmurs, pressing close as though he’s trying to soak up some extra strength from the contact. Magnus takes his hand and squeezes it gently in reply, sending a small surge of magic into Alec’s palm.

“So, mother, want to come help me alter the wedding decorations?” Isabelle asks pleasantly, once Alec is out the door. Maryse glares at her and turns on her heel, walking off without a so much as a backwards glance. “I guess not. Any other takers? Dad, how about you? Are you going to say anything at all about this or will you let mom speak for both of you?”

The ‘as usual’ goes unsaid. Magnus watches with interest as a flash of guilt crosses Robert Lightwood’s face.

“I can’t pretend I understand all of this,” Robert says slowly, indicating the room at large. “But times change, and if Alec, for any reason, doesn’t know that I’ll always support him, then I’ll need to start doing a better job of showing him that.” He turns to Magnus and, after a moment’s indecision, walks up to him, holding out his hand.

“As I said, I don’t understand this,” Robert continues. “But if you’re my son’s choice, then I will do what my wife can’t right now and wish you welcome to the family.”

“Thank you.” Magnus takes the outstretched hand, shaking it, half in shock. Several hundred years of watching the world turn, and some people can still manage to surprise him, it seems. 

“And Lydia,” Robert says, turning to her after letting go of Magnus, “please know that we recognise and acknowledge the commitment you’re making to Alec and to the cause, even if we can’t celebrate it now. With Max being so much younger, Jace is, in many ways, Maryse’s and my youngest child, and the thought of him being cut off from the Clave and from Alec is terrifying. So please try and give us some time.”

“Of course,” Lydia says, her voice coming out unusually wobbly. Magnus takes a step closer to her and holds out his hand. Lydia takes it gratefully.

“Isabelle, what I said about Alec goes for you as well,” Robert says at last, walking over to his daughter and giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m immensely proud of you, you know.” 

Izzy nods sharply, clearly trying to hold back tears. Robert turns and leaves the room.

The three of them are left to stand around semi-awkwardly, looking at each other.

“Well, then!” Magnus says, clapping his hands together, once the oppressive silence has gone on for a while. “That was indescribably awful, and I, for one, feel a sudden urge to get mind-numbingly, blackout drunk. Who is with me?”

“Yes, please,” Lydia replies instantly, at the same time as Izzy says, “Oh thank God, I thought you were going to suggest we all sit down and talk or something.”

“No no, the part where you spill your heart and soul and we all hug it out and cry pitifully doesn’t come until after at _least_ a pitcher of Margaritas,” Magnus quips. “Which reminds me, we need to make a stop on the way. The tequila at my place—most of the items in my bar, really—had… a bit of an accident earlier.”

Izzy laughs and quickly wipes at her eyes with her thumbs. “Sounds like a good time?”

“My dear Isabelle, you are _far_ too invested in your brother’s sexlife,” Magnus tells her, mock-sternly. “Speaking of, we’ll need to collect Alexander on the way.”

“He’ll be out in the city somewhere,” Izzy says. “He always leaves when he and mom are fighting. I’ll call him.”

“Perfect,” Magnus replies, and then steps back to create a portal. “Well, then, ladies—after you.”

* * *

It’s well after midnight, and Magnus moves slowly around his loft, doing his best not to walk into things. The four of them have been drinking steadily since they arrived, and Isabelle and Alec are now laid out on Magnus’ couch, watching some kind of documentary about baby monkeys on the Discovery Channel while Izzy cards her fingers through Alec’s hair.

The evening started out well enough—the sour aftertaste from dealing with Maryse aside—but then Clary called to check in, telling Isabelle she’d told her mom about Jace, and that they were now both heading to bed, exhausted from all the crying. Both Alec and Izzy lost whatever cheer they still had after that, and quickly curled up together, each with a bottle of wine in front of them. 

Magnus notices that yet another bottle has gone empty and walks into his kitchen to fetch a new one from his fridge. He stops short in the doorway: Lydia is sitting at his kitchen island, crying silently, but hard enough that her shoulders are shaking with it.

When she spots Magnus, she immediately raises her hands to her face, wiping at her eyes furiously.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says. “I’ll leave you alone and we can pretend this never happened, if you want. Or I can sit down for a bit. If you want someone to talk to.”

Lydia makes a sound that’s half a laugh and half a sob. “I don’t talk.”

Magnus nods and moves a little closer, waits until Lydia rolls her eyes and pushes out a chair before sitting down next to her. “That’s okay. More wine?”

“Please.”

Magnus summons the bottle he came for and pops the cork. They sit next to each other, each focused on their drinks and their own thoughts for a very long time.

“I was married, you know,” Lydia says suddenly. “His name was John.”

“I know,” Magnus replies softly. “Alec told me.”

“I miss him. So much.”

Magnus hums in sympathy. Lydia wipes at her eyes again and then pushes her glass towards Magnus in a silent request. Magnus refills it and hands it back to her.

“He was the love of my life,” Lydia says quietly, after taking a long drink. “We actually got married in a mundane chapel before doing it for real, because neither of us could wait a minute longer to be with each other for the rest of our lives.”

Magnus smiles. He can see it, very easily—a slightly younger Lydia, drunk with happiness and seeing love as an invincible force that could overcome anything. Magnus remembers the feeling, that first rush of joy when everything was still so very easy. 

“When Alec proposed, I felt relief,” Lydia continues, practically tripping over her words in a rush to get them all out now that she’s gotten started. “Because I knew he wouldn’t ask anything of me that I couldn’t give him. And I figured it’d be nice not being so lonely all the time—because it was so clear that he was lonely too. And maybe that makes me a terrible person, because I _knew_. I knew he was giving up the chance to truly love someone, and I didn’t try to stop him.”

Magnus nods and busies himself with reaching for the wine bottle, topping up both of their glasses once more. “As you said before, though, it was Alec’s choice to make. And while I can’t be unhappy about the fact that he changed his mind, I understand you perhaps better than you realise. When you lose the person you love more than life itself—it changes you.”

Lydia looks up at him, understanding and sympathy written all over her face. “Oh, Magnus, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, but don’t be,” Magnus says. “It was a very long time ago. I’d found the love of my life three times already—all mundanes—before I met Camille and decided I was done with the whole concept. It never hurts any less when you lose them. But you need to know that time does heal, whether it’ll be in a year or several decades.”

He holds up his free hand, palm up—an open offer. Lydia hesitates for a moment and then takes it, surprising Magnus by shifting closer and carefully lowering her head to put it on his shoulder. 

“I’m scared,” Lydia admits. “I’m happy for you and Alec—really, I am—but where exactly do I fit into this alliance we’re creating?”

Magnus pulls her a little closer, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “You’ll fit in however you want to,” he says. “You and Alec will have a bond I can never truly understand—you’ll be connected heart, soul and body in a way that makes you feel each other’s presence no matter where you are. Jealousy is likely to come up, for both of us, and it won’t be easy for Alec either. There will be times when any one of us feels like they’re less important to the Triad as the other two. But I also know—from experience even—that those moments are the ones that’ll bring us even closer, in the end.”

“I hope you’re right,” Lydia says with a sigh. “That’s part of what scares me: when it was just the two of us getting married, I knew my heart would still be my own. It seems selfish, but I want to keep just John in there for a while longer.”

“Just because the pain will start to fade doesn’t mean he will,” Magnus says gently. “Here, have a look.” He reaches for one of the chains around his neck, holding out a single pearl, worn with age. “I gave this to Sinta, my first love and first wife, more than four hundred years ago. I can still hear the waves breaking against the shore next to our home and see her smile whenever I touch it.”

He lifts the chain over his neck and hands it to Lydia. “Here, why don’t you keep it safe for me for a while?”

Lydia’s eyes widen and she blinks repeatedly, clearly trying to keep herself from tearing up again. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, and you will,” Magnus says gently. “You’re stronger than you know, Lydia. You’ll make it through, I promise.”

Lydia shakes her head, but then raises her chin and takes a deep breath. With hands that tremble slightly, she pulls the chain over her neck, letting the pearl disappear beneath the fabric of her shirt.

Magnus squeezes her shoulder gently, and they sit next to each other for a while, just breathing together.

“This won’t be easy for Alec either,” Magnus says. “Even with a new bond, he’s likely to feel phantom pain for Jace, not to mention the emotional stress of no longer being able to feel their connection. He’ll need to grieve too, and I’m not sure he’ll allow himself that.”

“Yeah,” Lydia sighs. “We’re in for a bumpy ride, aren’t we?”

Magnus nods. “There’s still time to back out, you know,” he says. “Alec and Jace’s bond will still have to get deactivated, because it’s too dangerous to leave unchecked in the shape that it is. But you don’t need to pick up the metaphorical cape if you don’t want to.”

Lydia sits silently for a while, looking down at the glass in her hand, clearly thinking. 

“No,” she says. “I’m doing this. I like Alec, I’m starting to like you. I’ll get my own Institute to run and something meaningful to focus on instead of being miserable in Idris. Let’s do it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Magnus says, holding his glass up to hers. “To the future.”

“To the future,” Lydia replies, clinking their glasses together.

* * *

_“We’re gathered here today, to support each other in the loss of a warrior and to celebrate new beginnings,”_ the Silent Brother starts. _“Jace Wayland has chosen a path which turns him away from the light, and will be exiled as the Law demands. Alexander Lightwood, brother and_ parabatai _, please step forward.”_

Magnus holds his breath as Alec steps up to the altar, face tense and stoic as he rolls up his shirt to reveal his mark.

 _“A brother lost, a bond released,”_ the Silent Brother intones. _“Alexander Lightwood, touch your stele to the crystal and deactivate your sacred rune.”_

Alec’s hand is trembling as he reaches forward, and it takes everything Magnus has not to go to him, wrapping him up in his arms and telling Alec that it will all be okay. He closes his eyes as Alec touches the glowing stele to his hip, unable to watch as a wave of pain runs through Alec’s body.

 _“Lydia Branwell, please step forward,”_ the Silent Brother says.

Magnus watches as Lydia walks up the steps, taking her place next to Alec. Her hair is braided and pinned back, her black combat gear matching Alec’s. Lydia holds out her hand, offering it to Alec, who takes it and weaves their fingers together before letting go again. Lydia gives him a small, encouraging smile and then turns towards the Silent Brother.

 _“Lydia Branwell has made the choice to tie her life to Alexander Lightwood’s,”_ the Silent Brother says. _“As one bond breaks, another will form, carrying on the sacred fight against the demons and the darkness. One hand; one heart; one blade to carry the mission forward. Lydia Branwell, touch your stele to the crystal and mark yourself with the_ parabatai _rune.”_

Magnus holds his breath as Lydia raises her arm, touching her stele to the crystal and then putting it to her hip. Magnus sees her grit her teeth in pain as it makes contact, sees her legs start to tremble after the first two lines, even though the movement of her hand stays perfectly smooth. In the audience, he hears Isabelle gasp.

 _“Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, step forward and take your place on the dias,”_ the Silent Brother says. Magnus looks up at Alec, trying to see past the overwhelming pain in his eyes for a sign that Alec still wants to do this.

“Magnus,” Alec says, his voice breaking in the middle. “Come here. _Please_.”

Magnus’ feet have him moving forward instantly. He hears discontented mumbling from some of the members of the Clave as he walks up the steps, but doesn’t give a damn. He walks straight to Alec, holding out his right hand for him to take, and then starts to turn, in order to offer his left one to Lydia.

The next thing he knows, Alec has him pulled in by the lapels of his jacket and is kissing him to within an inch of his life, right in front of his family and what might as well be the entirety of the Clave. Magnus gasps, and Alec pulls him even closer; Magnus feels hot wetness against his cheek and can’t figure out which one of them is crying.

He breaks the kiss gently and rests his forehead against Alec’s for a moment, giving both of them some time to compose themselves.

“I’m sorry,” Alec whispers, his lips brushing lightly against Magnus’ cheek. “I just really needed to do that.”

Magnus smiles and tilts his head, leaning in for another kiss before stepping back. “Any time.”

He takes Alec’s hand in his and turns again to Lydia, who holds out her own hand to him without hesitation. Magnus takes a deep breath and centres himself.

He can feel the moment when the broken edges of Alec’s bond knits together with Lydia’s newly runed one. It’s like a ray of light blocked by a mirror that suddenly slips through the glass and spreads towards infinity, except it grows in strength the further Magnus follows its progress. He incants another spell, to help the physical manifestation of the bond along, and watches as the runes on Alec and Lydia begin to glow with a clear, silver light.

 _“The broken bond has been restored,”_ the Silent Brother confirms. _“Alexander Lightwood and Lydia Branwell are now_ parabatai _—united from this day forward until the end of their days.”_

Out in the audience, Magnus hears a few people clapping demonstratively—the most traditionalist among the Clave, no doubt. The effect is rather ruined by the sound of Clary trying to stifle her sobs against her mother’s shoulder.

 _“This bond will be balanced through the magic of a warlock in a holy Triad,”_ the Silent Brother continues, and Magnus steels himself as sounds of shock followed by furious whispers break out all around the room. He looks down at the first row and locks eyes with Maryse, who sits ramrod straight in her chair, but—to her credit—is pretending like she can’t hear a word of what the people around her are saying.

 _“Magnus Bane, add your magic to the power of the crystal and accept the marks of your alliance on your skin,”_ the Silent Brother says. Magnus closes his eyes and holds out his hands before him, letting his magic flow.

It connects with Lydia first, which surprises Magnus a little, until he feels a familiar tug in the centre of her energy signature. He smiles to himself, recognising Henry’s power and feeling his magic slot into it effortlessly—like a soft ‘welcome home’ after a very long day.

Next is Alec, and the way Magnus’ magic flares as it connects takes his breath away. He looks down at the back of his hands as the spell completes itself, curious to see how his new allied partners will manifest on his skin.

On his left hand, a beautiful design of a rowan grows in pale gold from the tips of his fingers and disappears under his sleeve at the wrist. Magnus smiles and looks over to his right hand.

At first, he doesn’t spot the design. It’s small—only a single line of gold crossing over his fourth finger. Then realisation hits, and his eyes widen; he turns his hand around slowly, and, sure enough, the line runs all the way around his finger, connecting back to itself at the end.

An infinity symbol; Magnus suddenly finds it very hard to breathe.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asks quietly. “Is there something wrong? Is that mark no good?”

Magnus clears his throat and reaches out to take Alec’s hand back in his. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Though I guess it depends on how you feel about marriage.”

Alec’s eyes widen almost comically. _“What?!”_

“Just to be clear, I still think we should go on at least three dates before making it official,” Magnus says, winking at him. On his other side, Lydia is trying and failing to keep a straight face.

 _“The Triad is complete,”_ the Silent Brother intones. _“All rise for the new alliance made this day.”_

Magnus moves to the side, guiding Alec to stand in the middle of their group. Isabelle is the first to get to her feet, with Clary and Simon right behind her. Jocelyn and Luke are next, followed by some scattered members of the Institute. 

Magnus watches as Robert Lightwood leans over and says something into his wife’s ear, and then he gets to his feet too. When Maryse follows, the rest of the room does as well, and Magnus is suddenly looking out at a full room of people, all of them—if not accepting, then at least recognising that the formal power of the Institute has shifted into something new.

Magnus looks over at Alec and Lydia, and sees the beginnings of smiles on their faces. He tightens his grip on Alec’s hand and moves his other one in an arc in front of them, covering the entire aisle with magnolia blossoms.

Some of the older members of the Clave’s eyes widen in shock at his choice of flower. Magnus sends them a most radiant smile.

“After you,” he tells Lydia, who laughs and shakes her head. “Is that a ‘no’ on the quick escape? Alright, then.”

Alec grins and dips his head down for a quick kiss. Magnus hears some of the murmurings from older Clave members start up again and blithely transforms the flowers on the floor to a thick bed of nasturtium, just to add a little bit of insult to the injury.

“I have no idea what you’re doing right now,” Alec murmurs against his lips. “But it’s clearly pissing them off, so whatever it is, I like it.”

“Good,” Magnus murmurs back, catching Alec’s lower lip between his teeth teasingly. “When it comes to you, I always aim to please.”

“Hey, keep it in your pants until you’re no longer in public,” Isabelle says, coming up to greet them. “Or no longer in front of me, in any case.” She moves in close and wraps her arms around her brother. “Alec, I am _so_ proud of you.”

“Guys,” Simon cuts in, coming forward as well, with Clary and her family at his heels. “That was incredible. It was like watching a live version of _Dead Poets’ Society_ , you know the Robin Williams movie, the amazing one? You three were Professor Keating, and you—” He turns to Izzy, “You were Todd, standing up on your desk, all ‘oh captain, my captain!’ You know?”

Isabelle, Alec and Lydia look at Simon as though he just grew an extra head. Magnus bites his lip and tries to keep back a smile.

They might have a war coming, but at least the first battle is one they’ve managed to win. Magnus moves a fraction closer to his new allies and lets his magic feel its way through the pathways of the new connection, cautiously excited about whatever comes next.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower and tree meanings:
> 
> Rowan: clarity, connection, balance, divinity  
> Magnolia: nobility  
> Nasturtium: victory in battle, conquest
> 
> ... there might be an epilogue to this eventually. No promises (because I need to finish my other WIP as well), but there might be a doc in my drive with shirtless Magnus in it. Possibly. Also banter. And established relationship Malec, because that might be a terrible weakness of mine. Anyway. XD The end for now! We'll see what happens.
> 
> Thank you again, everyone. All the love xxx


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen months later. The war against Valentine is still ongoing, but rapidly coming towards a close. Magnus wakes up in his and Alec’s bed in the wake of a mission to take out Valentine’s ship and main base of operations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, an epilogue did happen! Have some established Malec smutty fluff. It might rot your teeth a bit, fair warning. XD

_**EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER** _

“Where did our clothes go?” is the first thing Magnus says when he wakes up, feeling as though he just got stabbed by a thousand knives and then got run over by a truck on top of it. He tries to lift a hand and reach for Alec’s, but quickly winces and lets it drop again. “Ow.”

“Careful, you ran your magic far too low just now,” Alec replies from where he’s lying next to Magnus on their bed, reading a book. “You were unconscious and chilled to the bone when we made it back to you. Clary said the best way to warm you up quickly was body heat. I wasn’t sure it would work, but Catarina said there wasn’t anything she or the others could do except give you time, so I figured—couldn’t hurt, right?”

“I’d say _definitely_ not,” Magnus replies. “In fact, I feel better already. Maybe you should explore this healing technique some more. In the name of science, naturally.”

“Oh, in the name of _science_ ,” Alec repeats, cracking a small smile. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

He puts his book down and pulls Magnus closer, so that their bodies line up and press together fully, before propping himself up on his elbow to look down into Magnus’ face. “Better?”

“Much,” Magnus confirms. “How are the others? Did the plan work?”

“It did,” Alec says. “Most of it, at least. We got Jace out. He got pretty banged up in the fight, and there are new runes on him that I really don’t like the look of, but I think he’ll be okay. Minimal casualties in general thanks to the warlock circle, but lots of wounded.”

“What about Valentine?”

“We don’t know,” Alec admits. “Jace got him in the stomach with his blade, and he went down. Jace went in for a second blow, but Valentine rolled under the railing and threw himself off the ship to escape. He shouldn’t have been able to survive a fall like that with a seraph blade wound, but…”

“With all the transformations he’s gone through, there’s no way of knowing for sure without a body,” Magnus finishes for him. “Well, that’s exceedingly disappointing.”

“We got the Cup back though,” Alec says. “And all the rogue Shadowhunters on the ship were either killed or arrested, so at least we managed to do some heavy damage control.”

“Did Lydia—?”

“She and Izzy went straight to Idris with the Cup,” Alec replies. “They’ll probably be there for a few days, helping out with setting up the trials. She’s fine, don’t worry. Kept herself back like a pro, according to Catarina, even though you could see her itching to join the battle.”

“Good. That’s good,” Magnus says, closing his eyes and leaning his head further back against the pillow. “Have I expressed lately how glad I am that the one with the best impulse control out of the three of us is the one carrying our child? Because I really am.”

“You might have mentioned it, once or twice,” Alec says, and Magnus can hear the smile in his voice before it suddenly turns serious. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be more careful as well. This one was too close; you pushed yourself for far too long to keep that spell up.” Alec looks away, and Magnus can hear him take a long, shaky breath.

“I could _feel_ you slipping away at the end,” Alec continues. “Almost missed one of Valentine’s men because I was too focused trying to make sure I could still sense your heartbeat inside of me.”

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus says, hearing his voice crack a little as Alec meets his eye again. He reaches out and pulls Alec to him just as Alec begins to shake. “Darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

Alec clings to him, pressing his face against Magnus’ throat until he starts to calm back down. His breathing is still a bit ragged, and his heart is beating too fast against Magnus’ own. Magnus tightens his arms around him and presses soft kisses into his neck in silent apology.

“You’re supposed to be the immortal one,” Alec murmurs at last, leaning in and pressing an almost punishing kiss against Magnus’ throat. “I was finally starting to come to terms with that—I’m not sure how to deal with the possibility that _I_ could be the one left behind. And I don’t think I _can_ , so please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus repeats, dragging his lips lightly along the line of Alec’s jaw. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Alec nods jerkily, and the next thing Magnus knows, he’s being rolled onto his back and Alec is coming down on top of him, taking his mouth in a searing kiss. Magnus moans and tilts his chin up, moving into Alec’s touch. He can feel tiny prickles of new magic in his blood, the way it’s slowly waking up and rising to the surface like champagne bubbles beneath his skin. He runs his hands down the length of Alec’s spine, fingers almost aching with the need to reach out and connect.

As though he can read Magnus’ mind (or maybe Alec simply needs it just as much as Magnus does), Alec reaches out and catches Magnus’ hands in his, bringing them up over Magnus’ head and holding them there as his hips line up with Magnus’ properly.

“Take whatever strength you need; want to feel you everywhere. Need to. _Please_.”

Magnus’ magic flares. It surges up his arms and through their joined hands, pulling at Alec’s energy and feeling it pour into him like water. The aches and pains from the burnout fade almost alarmingly fast, and a familiar wave of desire starts to build in their place. Magnus pulls his knees up, capturing Alec’s hips perfectly between his thighs. Alec’s hands tighten their hold, and Magnus feels him push even more of his own energy into Magnus’ body.

Magnus leans in and captures Alec’s lips in a deep kiss, slowly starting to push some of his magic back through the connection. After eighteen months together, Magnus’ magic knows Alec’s body on an almost molecular level, and it’s easy as breathing to find all the places where Alec has taken hits during the battle, soothing bruised muscles and healing cuts and broken vessels as he goes.

He reaches a particularly nasty cut on Alec’s left thigh, and Alec breaks their kiss and pulls in a sharp breath as he feels the pain disappear and endorphins start to flow through his body in its place.

“Stop that,” he tells Magnus sternly. “You shouldn’t be using more magic right now; you’re supposed to rest.”

Magnus grins and sends a small spark of magic to play over Alec’s skin, just for the sake of it. “But I’m feeling so much better already.”

“You’re impossible,” Alec complains. “Stop doing magic and focus on taking what you need to recharge instead.”

“Oh, I can think of quite a few things,” Magnus replies, grinding his hips against Alec’s teasingly, mentally patting himself on the back when Alec’s eyes momentarily glaze over. “I might need some help, though, if I’m just supposed to lie here and _take what I need_.”

Alec groans and drops his face against Magnus’s throat. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Magnus counters, grinding his hips against Alec’s again. “You chose me; you wear a token from me around your neck every day to show it.” He turns his head so he can reach the side of Alec’s face, kissing his way up to his ear and and teasingly scraping his teeth against his earlobe before going in for the kill, _“We’re going to have a child together.”_

Alec’s whole body trembles, and the kiss he presses to Magnus’ jaw in response is definitely going to leave a mark. Forget the thrill of newly restored magic—the way Alec moves against him, pressing Magnus hard into the mattress and kissing him until they’re both desperately hard and panting into each other’s mouths, that’s a high like no other.

Magnus twists one of his hands out of Alec’s grip and snaps his fingers, overshooting a little bit and almost hitting Alec in the head with the summoned bottle.

“I love how talk about babies and commitment makes you all hot and bothered,” he murmurs to Alec while handing him the lube. “We should definitely take advantage of that over the next seven months while there’s still no one else around to interrupt us.”

Alec kisses him again, long and hard. “Stop talking and put your legs on my shoulders.”

Magnus is all too happy to comply. He leaves his arms above his head and stretches out his upper body as Alec sits back and flicks open the cap of the bottle. The first stretch of Alec’s fingers is maddening—just enough of a tease of what’s to come to be completely excruciating; Magnus does his best to move his hips to get them deeper inside of him.

Luckily for him, Alec seems just as worked up and desperate as Magnus is, and a few strategic sparks of extra magic sent down his spine gets him even more so. They both groan in relief as Alec pushes inside, and Alec takes a moment to lean down, pressing a deceptively soft kiss to Magnus’ lips before sitting back on his haunches and moving Magnus’ hips and legs until he has them at the exact angle he wants them.

It’s all Magnus can do to just tilt his head back and enjoy the ride. Alec fucks him hard and fast from the very first stroke, pushing Magnus towards the edge embarrassingly quickly.

Magnus doesn’t care one bit, He wants to come—wants Alec to get him off and then keep fucking him through it until Magnus is completely spent and boneless and can do little more than melt into the mattress beneath him. He moves against the sheets restlessly, trying to push up and get some friction for his aching cock against Alec’s stomach, and groaning in frustration when he can’t manage it.

Alec leans down, pushing Magnus’ legs forward until he’s got him practically folded in half, and kisses him again. His hands run up the back of Magnus’ arms until he reaches his wrists, and Magnus feels his head begin to spin as Alec’s strong hands grab hold of his, weaving their fingers together.

“You’re not pulling enough energy,” Alec says between ragged breaths. “Come on, Magnus, you know I can take it.”

Magnus digs his fingers into the back of Alec’s hands and does as told. Alec’s power surges into him, and with it comes a mirror image of the pleasure coursing through Alec’s body. Magnus gasps, his own pleasure climbing even higher in response; he’s so, so very close.

“Alec, please,” he tries, using his legs against Alec’s shoulders to give himself a bit of leverage. “Oh, yes, darling, right there. Just a little— _nnggh_ ”

Alec redoubles his efforts, practically pounding into Magnus now, and it only takes a few seconds of Alec changing the angle again and Magnus’ cock getting caught between their stomachs for the pleasure to crest and spill over, leaving Magnus breathless and moaning helplessly as Alec fucks him through his orgasm.

Through the connection, he can feel Alec getting close as well, and a well-timed touch of magic has him lose his rhythm completely, grinding his hips into Magnus erratically as he fights to keep himself under control.

Magnus doesn’t want him controlled; he wants Alec wild and unrestrained and utterly lost in pleasure. On the next deep thrust, he gathers what little wits he still has about him and uses the momentum (and a bit of magic—no one can say that he doesn’t know when to stack the deck in his favour) to push back with his legs, toppling Alec over on his back.

“You’re. Supposed. To be. Taking it easy,” Alec manages between gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes tightly shut in an attempt to keep himself under control as Magnus starts riding him. Magnus grins and arches his back, very much aware of how much Alec loves watching his abs play under his skin as he slows down his movements.

His magic feels like it’s singing in his veins, soaking up each spark of pleasure and returning it ten-fold. He leans forward and takes Alec’s face in his hands, starts pressing the softest and gentlest of kisses to his lips as he lets his magic run free. It seeps into Alec’s body, filling Alec up and coaxing his climax from him in a slow, torturous wave. Magnus lets it build and crest, gasping as he feels Alec start to come hotly inside of him.

Alec’s arms go around his back, holding on to Magnus desperately as Magnus keeps their pleasure on a loop, sharing it through the connection until they’re both too punch-drunk and exhausted to continue.

With a last drawn-out moan, Magnus lets himself collapse against Alec’s chest, pressing his face into Alec’s throat and simply breathing him in. His heart is still hammering in his chest, and Magnus feels like he’s about to break open, like the love he feels for Alec is too large and wild to be contained by something so flimsy as his physical body.

Through the connection, he can feel Alec’s own heart beating in sync, knows that Alec feels the same and that he finds it just as overwhelming as Magnus does sometimes. It makes Magnus love him even more; every time he thinks he couldn’t possibly fall any deeper, Alec manages to prove him wrong. He draws in a shuddering breath and hugs Alec tighter.

They lie together quietly for a while, trading soft touches and listening to the sounds of each other’s bodies. Alec moves a hand to Magnus’ head and starts to absentmindedly play with his hair, and Magnus pushes back into it, humming happily.

“We should have dinner with Lydia as soon as she gets back from Idris,” he says eventually, his mind turning back to their current situation. “Go back over the steps we’ll each have to take once she starts showing.”

“I still maintain that it doesn’t really matter what we do,” Alec replies. “We know that the minute I claim paternity, all hell will break loose. The Clave will most likely put both Lydia and I on trial. Only question is whether they’ll do it right away or wait until the baby is born.”

“Don’t worry, the loophole of choosing any advocate is still there—I’ll put on the same suit, even,” Magnus says. He pulls back a little and puts his hands to his throat, mimes adjusting an invisible tie and then he moves his hands in front of himself expressively. “You see, Madam High Inquisitor, when a magical turkey baster and a cervix love each other very, very much—”

Alec rolls his eyes and shuts him up with a kiss. It goes on for quite a while, and Magnus is just starting to contemplate going for round two when Alec pulls back, a more serious look on his face.

“It won’t be that easy and you know it. Lydia and I have made a lot of powerful allies since we were bonded, and even people who’ve been dicks about you and me have at least had the sense to not openly oppose mine and Lydia’s standing with the Clave or our leadership. That might all change now.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a fair few bitter people in Idris who are just itching for the chance to tear you and Lydia down,” Magnus says. “And me, of course, but that’s just your regular Tuesday. We’ll make sure they don’t succeed.”

“They can put me through the angel trials, for all I care,” Alec replies. “In fact, I might even suggest it if they start being dicks about our statement; it’d be worth the hassle to see their heads explode when I pass without the slightest problem.”

Magnus winces. “Still, I’d prefer if we didn’t have to go down that route,” he says. “Even when you pass, the angel trials tend to be… quite rigorous. Not to mention exceedingly unpleasant.”

“I know,” Alec says. “And I’m hoping to avoid it too, of course. It’s just—it won’t change anything if they decide to make a giant fuss. We haven’t broken the law when it comes to the bond, and the Clave will just have to accept that.”

“Kicking and screaming, most likely.”

“Well, that’s where you come in,” Alec says, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ shoulder. “That old ritual to demonstrate the purity of a _parabatai_ bond is still going to work, right?”

“ _That old ritual_ is one of my proudest magical achievements since I got my hands on the _Book of the White_ , thank you very much,” Magnus replies. “And with the amount of work Tessa put in to help me adapt it, you’d better be supremely grateful, or I can’t promise that she won’t try to turn you into a toad.”

“Duly noted. Can we do the, you know—thing?” Alec asks hopefully, tapping his _parabatai_ rune with his fingers to illustrate.

“Sure,” Magnus replies, smiling as he watches Alec’s whole face light up in excitement. “You know the only thing you’ll be able to feel is indigestion, though, right? There are still quite a few weeks left to go until the baby starts kicking; as of now, it’s only about the size of a grape.”

“I don’t care, it’s _our_ tiny grape,” Alec says. “And I want to check in and make sure Lydia is alright too. Do it for me, please?”

“Your wish is my command,” Magnus replies, leaning in for a kiss as he starts channeling his magic into Alec’s bond. He stops when he gets to the point where it morphs into Lydia’s, mentally tapping at it, like a soft knock against a door.

The response he gets makes both him and Alec gasp. Magnus quickly withdraws his magic and tries to keep himself from laughing as he sees a furious blush spread across Alec’s face.

“So,” Magnus says, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch. “That was, um—clearly a bad time.”

“Oh _Gods_ ,” Alec says miserably. “Why did I have to know that? I did _not_ want to know that!”

“Well, to be fair, emotions tend to run high after a battle,” Magnus says. “I’m sure Isabelle—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut _up_!” Alec moans, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. “Seriously. No talking about this, _ever_. In fact, if you have a memory spell handy, I’d love to erase the image of it from my brain.”

“Well, I for one think this is great,” Magnus says. “Isabelle’s been not-so-secretly pining for months now, and I think it’s wonderful that Lydia is allowing herself to move on and risk falling for someone new.”

“Please. Stop. Talking.”

“You’re being awfully prudish about this,” Magnus continues, unable to keep himself from needling Alec a bit further. “You know, just because _you_ would never go near a vagina, that doesn’t mean that other people can’t thoroughly enjoy—”

Alec growls and tries to smother him with the pillow. Magnus laughs, and they wrestle together on the bed until Magnus throws his hands up in surrender, still laughing as Alec pins him down and plants a kiss on him to shut him up.

“We’re having a baby,” Magnus says giddily against Alec’s lips, before wrapping his arms around Alec’s neck and kissing him back fiercely.

“We are,” Alec agrees, breaking the kiss to brush his lips across the line of Magnus’ jaw. “I love you, Magnus. _So much._ I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too,” Magnus replies. “Now come here and kiss me some more.”

Alec is quick to comply, and Magnus lets himself forget about the rest of the world for a while and just be utterly, blissfully happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Come say hi on [tumblr](actuallyredorchid.tumblr.com). :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] quid pro quo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9718445) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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